Arthur Kirkland and the Job
by Black Family Scribe
Summary: England is depressed and goes drinking. Under some unfortunate circumstances he gets in a drinking contest with a certain crimson eyed Germanic nation. Now England faces a fate worse than death. Teaching. At Hogwarts School of Witch Craft and Wizardry.
1. Prologue

**An: I'm going through an Hetalia thing and since Hetalia/Hp crossovers are so unrepresented I wanted to add my twist. Anyone who can guess the three classes Arthur is student-teacher in gets a cookie and a favorite pairing in either series.**_

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Arthur Kirkland And The Job

**PROLOGUE**

It was summer of 1993, and the beginning of what would soon become known as the Great Escape of Sirius Black or the Year of Terror to the Wizarding World. But to the countries of the world it was always referred to simply as the Great Drinking Contest Incident. In a Wizarding pub in London sat the personification of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Northern Ireland, more commonly called England by others, and Arthur by a select few. England knew he shouldn't have done this, any other day he probably could have stopped himself. But not today. Not with what he'd gotten in the mail today from a naïve Italian.

England lifted his class to examine the small piece of paper. It wasn't particular decorative or eye burning, very unlike Alfred. Just a simple creamy color with very slight pale gold embroidery around the edge proclaiming the date, time, and place the event would occur. Very casual, very classy. If it wasn't for the extra note that had come with it, England might have been happy, cheerful even at the thought of rebuilding his relationship with Alfred, even if it would have been awkward and a bit painful to celebrate _that_ day. It would have been worth it.

But right as he'd been half through the RSVP number on the invitation he'd seen the small notebook paper peeking out. Curious the Brit had picked it up to read it over.

_Dear Mr. England,_

_I know you and America argue sometimes, but me and big brother do that to! I thought it'd be great for you to come too and since Germany said you probably hadn't gotten one I sent you mine! I hope you come!_

_Sincerly,_  
_Italy – Feliciano Vargas_

He'd dropped the phone and had been out the door before he could even finish. Feeling sick to his stomach England had headed towards his favorite Wizarding pub, The Wolf's Howl. It was owned by a werewolf and most of its patrons were such. They left England alone and he returned the favor moping in the corner as he nursed another glass of their finest firewhisky.

Which of course was when something had to happen. Of all people to walk into _his_ pub, it had been Prussia. That bastard older brother of Germany. Prussia had explained that he enjoyed visiting The Wolf's Howl because of the 'awesome' mixture of alcohol and violence. Somehow along the line their conversing had lead to England accepting a challenge to a drinking contest and a bet was made. Whoever lost had to work part time as a normal human job for a year that the other chose for them. As an added bonus the winner got to watch the loser's torture along with freeloading with the loser.

It was down to this drink and they both knew it. Prussia had fallen out of his chair three times in the past ten minutes and England had loudly bawled out the story of Alfred leaving him. Thankfully he'd been sobbing so loudly his words were so indistinct that the crowd had no idea what he was saying. Unfortunately they'd heard enough to gather he was crying over a _man_ leaving him and had jumped to the wrong conclusion. England's green eyes fluttered over to the dark-skinned brunette wolf that'd had the nerve to comment. The werewolf flinched and clutched the ice he held to his more _sensitive_ appendage tighter. His nose was also swollen from where it had been broken twice. One for the comment. The second after his friend had healed it. Prussia had done it apparently taking offense in honor of his 'West'. None of the wolves had understood, but England knew he meant Germany.

"It seems this is it," Prussia slurred lazily, his red eyes glinting. "Not even the awesome me can keep this up much longer."

England snorted, sloshing a bit of the whiskey out of his mug. The man pouted a little and Prussia chuckled. England returned the chuckle with a friendly smile. It turned out Prussia wasn't such a bastard, his alcohol clouded mind decided happily.

"Yep this is it," England agreed, a bit slow to reply. Prussia gave another wide grin, not seeming to care.

"To firewhisky!" Prussia cheered holding up his glass. England raised his to meet it.

"To Alfred!" England slurred.

"To West!" Prussia shouted.

"To Ogden!" they cried in unison and drank. The fire flowed down England's throat in a familiar welcoming manner. Now a calming warm, since he'd been drinking so long, instead of its usual burn. He knew he'd lost before he'd finished. The world began to tip and blur. The only thing keeping him focused as the black took him was a pair of perfectly sober, clear red eyes. He'd been tricked. And dammit he should have known better. This was Germany's brother and had been under Russia for pity sakes! Russia who could almost drink the Bonny Girl, as he and his brothers all called Ireland, under the table. Of course he'd hold his better than him. As he lost consciousness England wondered with despair what the warm hands that caught him would make him do.

…

"Your credentials are quite amazing Mr. Kirkland," the old man said with a calming smile to the younger on fidgeting in front of him. "And of course the reference from your grandfather makes you quite a jewel of a teacher."

The young blond paused as if he wasn't sure rather being a 'jewel' was a good thing or not. Dumbledore smiled, but hid it. The boy was amazingly polite for a boy his age. Most of the young people who came to him for a job interview were either overly arrogant in their youth or terrified of his reputation. It was quite a bother when the hiring process began. But Arthur defied that.

True, he was nervous, but the normal sort of nervous that one got when they were hoping for something. He met Dumbledore's blue eyes with his own mild green gaze with a polite respect that one would treat well known colleague. The boy also had a confidence he rarely saw in young people his age. One free of arrogance. Dumbledore found it all quite refreshing. Then again he should expect nothing less from the grandson of his dear friend Arthur Kirkland the first. True they hadn't, met face-to-face in years, but they'd kept in regular contact through owls.

"I'm pleased to tell your application as student-teacher has been accepted." Dumbledore hid another smile as the boy looked as if he'd die of relief. Dumbledore gave his mind a light scan and only caught a flash of 'the next job the bastard would pick would probably dragon-dung scooper at Gring-' before the boy's shields throw him out with vengeance.

Arthur left with a suspicious look on his face, obviously knowing very well what had happened, but too much his grandfather reborn to comment. Dumbledore simply smiled, wondering who in the world this Gilbert was.


	2. Chapter 1

Arthur Kirkland And the Job

Chapter One

Prussia should have known this would happen. After all he'd known England for years. But he supposed even _he_ was entitled to an unawesome moment every now and again. Getting tricked was definitely unawesome.

England, _arrogant tea-loving jackass_, had ditched him. Ditched the _Awesome_ Prussia. He was pissed. They'd had an agreement and that so called 'gentleman' had broken it. Prussia had gone to his house to find it empty. That meant he was hiding on the wizarding side of his country. It had taken Prussia three weeks—_three freaking weeks_—to convince West his 'vacation' did not mean he was up to something. And when he'd arrived to leave with England, the bastard, was gone.

After breaking England's good china, Prussia sat down to drink some of the beer the man had in his fridge. He'd gotten lucky. Obviously Eyebrows had bought it at the last World Conference, which had been held in Germany. That had of course been the one he'd gotten the whole idea in. He'd gone to it, a rare occasion since his little brother had started learning it was necessary to sneak off so Prussia wouldn't follow. He'd been hanging around Antonio and Francis, Antonio's little boy toy (aka Romano) had been giving them the evil eye the entire time. Then as he was thinking how bored he'd been at West's, England had gotten in an argument with America over the existence of fairies and had mentioned Hogwarts.

Prussia had become curious and decided to investigate. Since he of course had been going to the Wolf's Howl for years (West still hadn't figured out why he kept getting bills for flights to England he never went on and, since Prussia had long ago figured out methods of making his brother not realize he'd left the house, West hadn't even suspected him. Prussia wondered if Ludwig would _ever_ discover the reason behind them.), he went there to ask around. Discovering the magical school, spoken of bitterly by most of the patrons, he'd began to think. Then he'd came up with the perfect plan. He was bored, West was starting to get annoyed with Prussia 'accidentally' bursting in every time Italy and West were just getting into it, and Prussia was curious.

And now all of that planning had been ruined. Annoyed Prussia eyed the glass on the floor evenly. What the hell, he decided. Prussia pulled out the wand he'd kept on him for years and promptly repaired all of England's very expensive, very old china only to break them again. Feeling much better at this Prussia quickly put the wand back in its holder.

The nations, on principle, interacted with their magical communities reluctantly. That was except for Norway, England, and Prussia. Without telling Germany, who he hadn't been introduced to that side of his government anyway, Prussia became the representation of magical Germany and magical Prussia. At the time it was because Ludwig had just almost died when the Holy Roman Empire had broken up. When things had begun to settle down Prussia had decided that honestly West was stressed enough and dealing with magic would fry his delicate psyche. It was all for the best. And now, with New Prussia in Canada, that was all that Prussia laid claim to.

The wand he had today had been a gift. From a wizard that even England should be familiar with. Gellert Grindelwald. Prussia had not only been involved in Nazi Germany during World War II, but with Grindelwald's plans. The man had taught him magic and given the wand, created by Grindelwald himself, as a gift. Prussia hadn't used it in years, but knew it would come in handy.

All this of course was a secret, no one, _no one_, knew Prussia not only had been involved in magic, but was actually skilled in it. Especially not England. Prussia decided to fix and break the china one more time before heading out. He needed to find a room in the Leaky Cauldron and get ready. England wouldn't shake him off this easily. And there would be hell to pay. _Definite hell_, Prussia thought darkly as he quickly took the small fortune in Wizarding gold he'd found hidden in England's 'Magic Room'.

…

Ernie Macmillan wasn't entirely sure how he'd gotten involved in this, but by now he knew it was too late. The albino man had already taken his wand and they were in Knockturn Alley, which didn't have the type of people who'd come to a thirteen year old's pleas for help. Looking up hopelessly at his silvery hair Ernie wondered why he had such horrible luck.

He hadn't meant to hit the man. Or to send what was clearly very expensive potions splattering all over the streets, but Ernie had been distracted. He'd been stealing another quick glance at the Firebolt, the front of the store now empty in the dimming twilight, and had been on the way to the Leaky Cauldron to meet up with his parents. The next thing he knew he rammed into the stranger and there was loud cursing in a strange voice. Ernie had stared down at the broken vials. And by the time it had clicked what had happened, the man had plucked his wand and was dragging him away.

The apologizes had died in Ernie's throat when he realized where they were headed and now he was trying to think of a reason why he was being pulled into and empty pub other than to be murdered.

The man pushed him into a sit and Ernie stiffened ready to fight. To his amazement, and confusion, the man ignored him and promptly ordered a beer with an accent Ernie only faintly recognized as German. The surprise didn't stop there, because not only was the man very young looking despite his silver hair, his eyes were red. Bright red as they examined Ernie over the bottle.

Ernie prayed to God this man wasn't a pedophile or something worse. Finally after taking a deep drink the stranger spoke.

"You're a Hogwarts student, ja?" the man questioned, blandly. Ernie blinked, out of everything he'd expected, which included this man being Voldemort reborn to him turning out to be a Nazi this wasn't even close. Hannah had always accused Ernie of having an overactive imagination.

"Er, yes." Ernie managed. The man nodded and smirk spreading across his face. Ernie was instantly reminded of Draco Malfoy. Except unlike the rude pompous Slytherin this man looked dangerous. Very dangerous.

"How do you get on the platform?" the man asked taking another swig. Ernie blinked.

"What?"

The man scowled and rolled his eyes, muttering something about 'eyebrows'. "I said how do you get on the platform? Do not make the awesome me repeat myself again."

Ernie wondered if he'd heard that correctly. Had this man honestly just referred to himself as 'the awesome me'. Not only was his grammar terrible, but he sounded even more pompous than Ernie himself. Finally it clicked what he meant and Ernie instantly felt suspicious. Perhaps this man really was a pedophile?

"Listen you brat, I'm here to find Eyebrows. He's going to be teaching at your school this year and the bastard abandoned me in the middle of a foreign country with no means to support myself. And after all we'd been through together to." Ernie personally thought the teary eyes and hurt voice was laying it on a bit thick, but he didn't _look_ like he was lying. Besides the very Hufflepuff part of Ernie's nature didn't like to see someone abandoned.

So Ernie began to explain to the weird albino German how to get onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. By the time he'd finished the albino was practically cackling and had bought Ernie his first taste of alcohol. After spending another hour drinking with a happy German Ernie was escorted to the front of the Leaky Cauldron. Ernie only had time to vaguely wonder if he'd done the right thing before throwing up on his panicked Mother's new shoes.


	3. Chapter 2

Arthur Kirkland And the Job

Chapter Two

Remus Lupin had been wallowing in indecision for the past hour and a half. Not even his complete shame at being a disappointment to the name of Godric Gryffindor could force him to go through with it. Looking at the entrance to Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters rather mournfully Remus wondered if he would ever get up the nerve to continue.

He wasn't truly surprised in his behavior. He'd just spent the past few months deciding to accept Dumbledore's offer only to change his mind an hour later. He'd thought he'd finished with the horrible torn feelings two weeks ago when he'd forced himself to agree to position after Dumbledore had informed him of this 'student-teacher'. This Arthur Kirkland had freed Remus from the guilt of knowing that even if he did decide it was too dangerous to stay on he could leave whenever he felt without leaving Dumbledore with the difficulty of having to find a teacher half way through the year. Kirkland was an insurance necessary for Remus to even slightly contemplate the position with any seriousness. What Remus hadn't foreseen was his feelings of panic and longing actually increasing now that he'd promised Dumbledore he'd come. He'd been up until four this morning unpacking and repacking. Halfway to the King's Cross he'd decided that he'd go to tell Dumbledore face-to-face that he would surrender the position, only to start changing his mind now.

Remus moaned and buried his face in his hands. He would have to do something soon. The guard had started to give him concerned looks that just told Remus he'd have to explain his presence or do something soon. Sighing Remus looked at the barrier between platforms nine and ten. Rather he accepted the position or quit, Dumbledore deserved to be told face to face, so Remus would get on the train. The decision made Remus casually began to walk near the barrier keeping an eye on the loud group of travelers to his right. As soon as the group was shielding the guard's view Remus slipped in. He literally felt the anxiety leave him as he took in the familiar scarlet train. Despite the pang at the sight of a place so cloaked with memories, both joyous and heartbreaking Remus finally felt certain of a decision and wasn't split.

He would go to Hogwarts and inform Dumbledore he'd stay on until Christmas as a test to see how it would work out. If he felt it was too dangerous he would leave and if things were working out he'd stay the remainder of the year. Almost the instant he came to this conclusion he sensed something behind him and watched as an albino stepped onto the platform muttering in what Remus vaguely remembered as German from a brief visit to Berlin during his youth. Without a moments hesitation Remus drew his wand and pointed it at the man. The albino didn't seem to see him at first too busy muttering to himself.

"Dummes Englisch, dumme Engländer, dummes Wetter, verdammter großer Augenbrauen Bastard." The albino said furiously, stopping and freezing when he realized Remus was there. His red eyes bore into Remus with an intensity that surprised him and his clear youth was just as shocking.

"What are you doing on the platform?" Remus questioned allowing a growl to slip into his voice. It was too early for parents to bring the students and this man, though young, clearly wasn't a student himself. Remus was a bit surprised the man simply pouted a little in his direction rather than answer him. Who in their right mind was so casual about having a wand pointed into his face. Unless he was a Muggle that is. Remus frowned, there was a Muggle repelling spell on the barrier, but he supposed accidents could happen. The complete calm the man showed only further proved this assumption. After all who would be scared of a stick being pointed in his face.

Remus sighed and lowered his wand. "Do you speak Eng-" Was all Remus managed before the albino suddenly had a wand in hand, making it apper from its arm holster with a flick of his wrist. Remus didn't have a chance to react and his wand was quickly jerked from his hands with a silent _Expelliarmus_. The German lazily pointed his wand at Remus's throat, while the werewolf cursed himself for his stupidity.

"What are you doing here?" the German questioned, red eyes gleaming as he took in Remus's furious features. The accent was very strong, but at least Remus could understand clear enough. "I was told no teachers rode the train."

Remus glared and wondered if he would be able to physically over power the smaller man quickly enough to take his wand back. Looking over his ready stance Remus realized that it wasn't likely. The young German held himself as an experienced soldier, the same ease and alertness only Senior Aurors could manage while looking completely relaxed. Remus felt a fool for not recognizing the ready stance of a soldier before.

"Well," the man questioned, raising a pale eyebrow. "Are you deaf or something?"

Remus glared but decided it would do no harm to answer the question and the more he delayed the more likely it was someone would walk in on them. "The Headmaster thought it would be wise to have an adult considering the current climate."

The German actually looked confused, shocking Remus to his core. Surely he had to know. But judging by the thoughtful look and drawing in of his brows he had no idea what Remus was speaking of.

"Surely you know of Sirius Black." Remus said indignantly. The German simply stared at him, causing Remus to splutter with shock and odd amusement. He'd been entertaining the idea that the albino was Sirius in disguise, but he didn't think anyone could fake that blank look to the name Sirius Black.

"An escaped criminal." Remus suggested delicately wondering, why he suddenly felt like laughing instead of worrying what the stranger's motives were. Recognition dawned on his pale face.

"The one none of you British will shut up about." The German said ndding to himself and clearly pleased he remembered. Remus was surprisingly and painfully reminded of Lily when she figured out something difficult. "I began tuning the name out after the first seventeen times I heard it. It was older than Toni's crush on the little Italian brat."

Remus couldn't help, but gape at him. A dangerous criminal who'd murdered thirteen people at once and was rumored to be Voldemort's heir apparent had escaped from Azkaban. The same Azkaban that no one had ever escaped from. And the man had tuned it out, because he was bored with the repeativeness of conversation revolving around one of the most feared and hated Death Eaters to ever serve a certain bald psychopath.

"But why would he be a threat to the children?" The German asked him curiously. "Surely any man who had just escaped would be fleeing the country. There are quite a few Western European countries who would shelter a criminal just to spit your government."

The reasonableness of the assumption and the innocence of the question gave Remus pause. Did this man know nothing? The man waited calmly looking completely placid, but Remus noted he stance did not relax for a second. Young and uninformed or not this man was clearly skilled and likely dangerous.

"Harry Potter." Remus offered easily, not wanting to go into detail, but knowing that the man's reaction to Harry's name would tell him more than anything else.

The albino blinked his pretty red eyes at him, but seemed to recognize the name a few minutes later. "Oh, is that the one who Lord Moldysnort tried to AK?"

Remus had to close his eyes against the innocent expression and bite his tongue to stop from laughing loudly at the name for Voldemort. The man was clearly out of touch with everything. Remus opened his eyes and examined the man intently. His lack of knowledge hinted at being a Muggle, but he held himself too confidently and what he did know was too in depth for him to not be a wizard. What was he? Seeming to sense his confusion the man smirked and appeared to come to his conclusion.

Remus almost didn't catch his wand as the German carelesly threw it towards him. The man further shocked him by stepping foreward and throwing an arm around Remus's shoulders. "Come on whoever the hell you are, you are clearly awesome enough for my presence and I should probably tell you why I'm here. Otherwise you might think I'm some creepy pedo like Toni or Francis."

...

England smiled to himself looking over his office with the air of someone deeply satisfied with himself. And quite frankly he was. England was basking in the glow of a job well done and certainty that there was no way in hell that Prussian Bastard would be able to track him down. His knowledge of the Wolf's Howl aside, no one, but those who had attended Hogwarts were aware of its location or how to travel there. England hummed happily to himself and straightened a picture frame absently. As long as he could get through the school year everything would be fine and his life could return to normal.

Besides it wasn't that horrific to get to work at Hogwarts. England loved children and would be more than happy to teach them there was the added bonus of keeping a close eye and finally coming into contact with Harry Potter. England knew quite well the boy would be the one to save him during Tom Riddle's next rising as he had the last. He'd left his care up to Dumbledore until now, but he really should meet his potential savior even if he didn't fully introduce himself. Besides he wanted to see how the Soul Magic Lily Potter had used had worked out. It could have unexpected consequences on children, especially at such a young age. It had been powerful too. England had felt it that night.

He'd been in one of his private homes recovering form one of Tom's massacres and felt something happening. Before he'd known what was happening the heady golden magic had consumed him. He'd recognized it as an ancient and powerful magic and realized someone had discovered the ancient teachings and mastered them enough to use them properly. It had vanished, but not before England had felt the tiny fluttering life the magic had attached itself too. At that moment England had felt the entire brutal force of a mother's deep love and need to protect her child even at the cost of her own life.

It had taken England an hour to stop sobbing at such an intense experience and he'd quickly followed the trail to Gordric's Hollow. England had found the child crying in the rubble and wrapped him up in his own cloak. After getting him to sleep England had waited holding the child. Once he felt the presence of Rubeus Hagrid he'd laid the child done (But not before covering him in intense and strong protective charms) and waited in the shadows for the half giant to find him. England hadn't left until after the young Sirius Black had found the bodies contained in the house and broken done. His keening and shattered pain still dug its way into England's dreams sometimes. Even now England couldn't quite believe how someone could have faked such intense pain and agony at the sight of the bodies of the friends he'd betrayed.

England had even been there the next morning when Petunia Dursley had discovered the baby on her door step. He'd followed the lingering traces of powerful magic on the boy and watched as Albus Dumbledore, Minerva McGonagall, and Rubeus Hagrid left his future savior laying in the cold in the middle of the night. England had been so furious at such treatment he'd almost gone straight to Hogwarts to hex Albus himself, but managed to reign it in and walk over to the child. He'd sat on the Dursleys doorstep holding the baby and keeping him warm until the spells he'd cast alerted him that Petunia Dursley had woken up and was heading towards him. He'd quickly cloaked himself and watched as the woman opened the door. It had been his spell that stopped the milk bottles Petunia had dropped from hurting the child and only after making sure the child was perfectly safe inside did he leave to get some sleep.

The noise of his door opening caused England to turn in time to see Severus Snape walk in, his face smooth, but eyes hard. Severus Snape was definitely of interest to England. He could feel the magic of a Life Debt radiating off the man and sensed through the Soul Magic cast around Harry who exactly it was connected to. The Death Eater turned spy had a Life Debt for Harry Potter and he had been the same man England had seen slip to Lily Potter's grave directly after the Potters funeral had ended. England had watched the man sob and apologize through the moans of agony.

"It seems the Headmaster has a problem he needs your assistance with dealing with." Severus told him smoothly, black eyes causually taking in the rather Spartan room and pausing at the few photographs lovingly lain on England's desk.

"Problem?" England questioned, causally turning the photograph of Alfred and Matthew away from the Potions Masters curious gaze. The man seemed a little embarrassed at showing any interest, but it didn't last long. His dark eyes glimmered knowingly and he said in a characteristically silky voice something that sent England running out of the room with a curse.

"A Gilbert Beilschmidt appears to have snuck onto the Hogwarts Express and collapsed when he encountered the Dementors. He woke up, but was so weakened by the meeting he fainted as soon he entered Hogwarts. The Headmaster believes he would be of interest to you."


	4. Chapter 3

Arthur Kirkland And the Job

Chapter Three

Harry James Potter was fairly sure he'd been straight up to this point. It wasn't that he suddenly felt attracted to all men. Ron for instance was still completely unattractive to him. But every time the man in front of him looked in his direction Harry's heart did a little flip and his face felt hot. Harry wasn't exactly sure where it was coming from. Sure he'd noted that other males were attractive before, but never like this. Harry wondered if this was how Ginny Weasley felt around him. Harry decided he'd apologize the next time he saw her. This was horrible.

And to make matters worse he was sure Hermione knew. She wasn't being obvious. But in between talking to the man about how Magical Germany post-World War II had faired versus how Muggle Germany post-World War II had faired, she was giving him knowing looks out of the corner of her eye. Harry was just Happy Ron was to busy being convinced the man was Dark to notice Harry's quiet. Their only other companion, introduced via the man as Professor Remus Lupin, though had no opinion. He was too busy sleeping from what the man had told him was a long night. The way he said it though had made Harry suddenly wander exactly _how_ the new Professor and the foreign man knew each other and simultaneously fight a blush at his attractive accent. What was he a girl?

"Something wrong Harry?" Ron questioned snapping Harry back to reality. Damn, Harry really needed to get a hold of himself if his loyal, bit sometimes oblivious, friend noticed it.

"Just a little hungry." Harry lied weakly. Ron nodded sympathetically and offered him his last chocolate frog. Harry accepted the frog and ate it without tasting it. Feeling red eyes on him, Harry looked down focusing on getting through this ride without embarrassing himself. He was almost thankful when Malfoy showed up as a distraction. He'd run off quick enough, not before throwing the man a piercing look though. Harry tried to ignore the fact he hadn't liked it that the man had looked at Malfoy with such interested and hadn't even blinked at Harry. Not that Harry minded. If anything Harry was glad Gilbert Beilschmidt wasn't treating him like the-boy-who-lived. And then the lights went out and Harry met a dementor for the first time.

"Harry! Harry! Are you alright-"

Someone was slapping him. When Harry opened his eyes the first thing he realized was that his mind was clear and he didn't feel overwhelmed. Then he took in everyone else. Ginny was sitting curled in the corner of a seat looking very pale and beside her was the equally white Neville. Hermione and Ron were kneeling beside him. Had he fallen off the seat when he heard the screams? Professor Lupin was watching him with concern. Feeling sick and cold Harry finally realized were Gilbert was. He was laid across the empty side of the compartment seats, asleep and with a look of terror on his face. Harry noted that he could actually look at Gilbert's face now and wondered what had overcome him before.

"What happened? Who screamed?" Harry questioned, but despite his worry over someone possibly being hurt he was more concerned on what had been going on earlier. Had he been under some spell. He couldn't stop throwing Gilbert a suscpious glance.

"Nobody screamed." Hermione said her brown eyes watching him wide and worried. Harry stared at her. He'd heard the woman. Hadn't he? He threw Gilbert another look. That thing that had come in had done something to him while he'd been under some weird spell. Harry was fairly sure it was a spell now. Maybe they'd caused him to hallucinate?

A loud snap made him jump and look up. Lupin had broken off some chocolate from an enormous slap. Lupin quickly began passing pieces amongst them, but gave Harry the biggest one. Lupin quickly folded the remaining chocolate in its foil and laid it down beside Gilbert.

"What was that thing?" Harry asked before he realized what he was doing.

"A dementor searching for Sirius Black." Lupin told them calmly and frowned when he saw Harry hadn't eaten the chocolate. "Eat it all off you it'll help. I need to speak to the driver." The man's pale eyes focused on Gilbert. "Make sure he eats the chocolate when he wakes."

With this the man disappeared into the corridor. Harry ate his chocolate, surprised by how much better he did feel while doing it, and listened to what happen. His insides went cold when he realized only he and Gilbert had reacted so strongly to it, but it made him wonder. What did he have in common with the German man? Looking up at him again he noted the man was moving. Jerking up Harry moved over to him, Hermione followed close behind. Harry wanted answers. He was almost sure that Gilbert was behind whatever had happened. But when he heard Gilbert speak he couldn't bring up his anger.

"Ludwig." The name seemed to be ripped from somewhere deep within the man. Somewhere twisted and pained. The compartment went silent as they all leaned foreword to hear what he'd say. The man jerked in his sleep and what looked like anger crossed his face.

"Rusland." The man hissed his face twisting up and voice filled with hate. Harry looked at Hermione to see if she knew what it meant. The girl's face was watching intently, but looked like she was thinking about something very hard.

"Russia." Hermione finally said, Harry turned back assuming that was her translation.

The next time he spoke it sound worse than anything else he'd said. It was painful to hear him say it. And Harry almost didn't. "I'm sorry Matthew." Gilbert whispered his face looking as if he was being burned. Harry couldn't stand it anymore and grabbed Gilbert's shoulders, he didn't care rather he'd used some creepy lust charm or whatever on him anymore, and shook.

Gilbert's eyes popped open, brilliantly and disturbingly red and focused dazed on Hermione and him. He looked confused at the sight.

"Roderich? Lizzie?"

…

_Prussia had never truly hated himself until that moment. During the battle he was supposed to protect Holy Rome. He was not supposed to leave he's little brother's side. He wasn't supposed to feel him. He wasn't supposed to find this. Holy Rome wasn't moving and Prussia couldn't breathe. The boy just laid there on the ground his chest motionless. Prussia fell to his knees. No. No. No. NO! His brother couldn't be dead. His annoying, bossy, little brother couldn't be dead. Prussia hadn't meant it all those times he'd wished he was gone. He hadn't meant any of it. Kill Prussia destroy his Kingdom. But don't take his brother. No. No. No. _

"_Ludwig." Prussia sobbed gathering the little boy in his arms. Prussia's heart shattered as he sobbed clinging to the little boy's body as if, if Prussia held on long enough he'd come back…_

_Prussia looked across the room at Germany and felt a chill go down his spine. The war was over today. They'd lost, but Germany still looked the same. Prussia couldn't ignore it any longer. He'd seen the camps. He'd seen the bodies. Prussia had helped this, supported this even. Prussia's body went numb as he took in the complete coldness of his brother's appearance. He'd failed. Forget any power this war could have brought. Forget any help Herr Hitler had been in the beginning. Prussia had failed Germany. He'd failed Ludwig again. He'd done worse than killed him. He'd turned his little brother into a monster._

_Prussia collapsed outside the room and for the first time in years let himself cry in public. He was really gone. Old Fritz. The greatest ruler Prussia had ever known was dead. Prussia sobbed at the loss he felt as bitterly as any other blow had ever been._

_Prussia felt a shiver of fear go down his spine, but didn't look up when the door was opened. He refused to react and give him any satisfaction. Prussia's stomach turned over as the footsteps grew closer. He wasn't saying anything. That wasn't right. He always mocked Prussia except… Prussia couldn't truly repress a shiver of horror. It had only happened once, he'd been cursing at Russia after the traditional hitting around and the man had tried something new as punishment. Prussia bit his lip trying to breathe through his nose to calm himself. He couldn't think of that otherwise he'd throw up. It wouldn't happen again, Prussia told himself wildly, but his heart fluttered harder with each step taken. Prussia had been good this week, he'd done the jobs he'd asked with little complaining. He hadn't even screamed earlier when his arm was broken. Prussia froze when a hand gently cupped his cheek. Warm breathe brushed against his face. "Kaliningrad."_

_It was a beautiful day, the sky was blue, the air was pleasantly crisp, and the mountain was beautifully covered with snow. Hearing the laughs of the other's on the slope Prussia turned to grin and Canada, who smiled shyly in return. Prussia felt his heart give a wonderfully painful squeeze—_

**No not this.**

—_Prussia paused when he noted something was off on his gentle friend's face. He took a step close to the blonde boy and lifted his face with a finger under the boy's chin. Canada jumped looking surprised. He grinned sheepishly. "Come on tell the awesome me what's wrong."_

**Stop I don't want to see this.**

_Canada hesitated looking, down but Prussia prodded again. Finally he looked up at him entirely serious. "Gilbert there's something I need to say." Prussia smiled, though he sensed something was serious. He leaned closer to hear his friend's quiet voice better. "You can tell me whatever you want Mattie."_

**Don't say it. Walk away.**

"_Gilbert-"_

**No.**

"_-I-"_

**No.**

"_-love-"_

**No, please. Don't. Mattie!**

"_-you."_

**NO!**

_Prussia froze and looked at the hopeful terror in those beautiful purple eyes. He pulled on a mask of indifference. "Sorry I'm not the love kind of guy." The expression of shattering pain was only there for a second before it was covered by a small smile. "It's alright. Let's forget I said something." Prussia wouldn't though. He could never forget or how that pain made him bleed on the inside and made him want to die slowly for putting it there, no matter how necessary he though it was._

…

Prussia opened his eyes to someone shaking him. Slowly he focused on who that someone was. It was two somebodies actually. "Roderich? Lizzie?"

Why were they here? And where exactly was here? Prussia couldn't remember anything. That was terrifying enough, but if Hungary and Austria were here that meant something bad had happened. And since Prussia felt alright, well a little weak, but not to bad, that meant something bad had happened to someone else. Prussia's heart jumped into his throat.

"Ludwig! Where's Ludwig?" he demanded trying to get up only to fall back down. Hungary grabbed his shoulders, uncharacteristically kind, and gently helped him sit up. That made Prussia distinctly terrified. Hungary was **not** kind and gentle to him. **Ever.**

"Where's my brother damn it?" he snarled and turned to look into Austria's green eyes. Wait green? Prussia blinked and leaned back to take Austria in. He was younger and his hair was messy. And what the hell had happened to Mariazell? Prussia looked at Hungary. She was a lot younger too and her eyes were brown instead of green. Suddenly Prussia realized these two weren't nations. He went back over what he'd said in panic trying to remember if he'd given away anything. His heart calmed when he realized he'd used human names. He was pretty damn lucky, but he still didn't know where he was.

Looking around he realized he was on a train and the compartment he was in was filled with kids. The girl who was not-Hungary and the boy who was not-Austria shared a look and seemed to decide something. The girl let him go and bent to pick something up. Prussia stiffened until he realized it was a chocolate bar.

"The Professor said to make sure you ate it when you woke up." The girl said quietly in English. Prussia calmed completely at that. He'd spoke in German earlier so he doubted they'd understood anything. Then the door opened and Lupin walked in. Suddenly everything came back to him. Prussia looked down feeling mildly horrified that he'd collapsed in front of these children. He ignored the curious looks and took a bite of the chocolate. The rest of the train ride was quiet. Prussia allowed Lupin to help him into the carriages drawn by some odd skeletal horses. When they made it to the castle Prussia only had the chance to take in Lupin's shocked face when the black haired old lady said Dumbledore wasn't expecting anyone before everything went black again.


	5. Chapter 4

**AN: Okay the last bit might be a little cracky, but I'm writing at two in the morning because I can't sleep and Hermione being the one to notice everything seemed funny to me.**

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Arthur Kirkland And the Job

Chapter Four

In his haste to get to Prussia before the fool could do permanent damage England was paying attention to his surroundings and ran straight into someone. On instinct he caught the woman before she fell. Recognizing her instantly he was too panicked to think before he blurted out "Charity Burbage!"

Her startling green-gray eyes looked at him warily under a mane of dark curls carefully pinned down for the occasion. He recognized her from the _Daily Prophet_ articles she wrote against the current anti-werewolf legislation that was circulating the Wizengamot suggested by the Senior Undersecretary to the Minister Dolores Umbridge and from winning Witch of the Year in _Witch Weekly_ for becoming the first witch to graduate alma mater from University of Britain For Higher Magical Education. A school that was even more world renowned than Hogwarts and only the most serious academics went to. England had gone there under a guise when the school first open. Having experienced it England was more than impressed by the skills it took to graduate.

"From the Prophet." England told her quickly not wanting her to come to the wrong conclusion. She still looked wary, but England didn't doubt she had good reason. Anyone who supported werewolves was usually faced with rather violent opposition.

"I'm Arthur Kirkland the student-teacher, I was just impressed with your work. I find the treatment of our fellow British citizens with 'furry problems' appalling also." He elaborate releasing her shoulders to take a step back and offer his hand. She looked at him a few more moments, but beamed and shook it. He liked the shake it was firm and confident.

"I'll let you off easy this time Kirkland, I'm in too good of a mood." She told him cheerfully, a mischievous glint in her eyes. "Dumbledore's waiting for you, I've got to get to the Feast before the students realize they outnumber the professors and do something heinous. The Weasley Twins alone will probably be realizing that without Dumbledore, Snape, or McGonagall present they might actually get away with something."

The woman waved good by and hurried away with a literal skip in her step. England shook his head and ducked into the Hospital Wing. To his horror he realized Prussia was conscious, and he was talking to the Headmaster. And Dumbledore was **listening**. England could not let this go on.

"Headmaster." England shouted as he approached, Dumbledore looked up with that damnable twinkle in his eyes and even worse Prussia's eyes were practically glowing and he wore that disturbing smirk-smile that just told England this wasn't going to end good for him. The other two in the room, a rather dazed looking man England knew was Remus Lupin and Madame Pomfrey whom England had already been introduced to.

"Hello there Arthur, dear boy." Dumbledore welcomed warmly making England's heart sink even further. Definitely not good. "Your friend Mr. Beilschmidt hear was just telling us the thrilling tale how the two of you decided to get work at Hogwarts together. I'm sure you must have been very upset when he was delayed from leaving home because of, what was it again?"

"My little brother's engagement." The red eyed bastard told him looking towards England with a downright smug expression. England had to remind himself that even if he could get away with it the Killing Curse did not effect nations, even annoying ex-nations. England knew from personal experience.

"I didn't realize Ludwig's relationship had gotten so far." England snarled through clenched teeth. Prussia looked even happier in the face of his annoyance.

"Ludwig didn't either, but then Lovino said his brother was not about to live in sin with the 'potato bastard'. Apparently Lovino is very, _very_ Catholic." Prussia told him calmly. Madame Pomfrey shared a questioning look with Lupin, but both quickly went about what they were doing, seeming not to really care. Dumbledore though gave Prussia curious look that suddenly made England remember something that probably only one other person besides Dumbledore and himself knew.

Dumbledore was **homosexual**. And considering in Wizarding Society it had just recently became illegal to beat your spouse that was not something widely accepted. At least by the older families. Half-bloods and Muggleborns were pretty calm about it depending on their upbringing. Hearing Prussia so easily announce this without even a bit of shame was probably quite refreshing to the man.

"Albus hear was going to give me a position." Prussia told him gleefully. "Isn't that wonderful Artie?"

Dumbledore was beaming and Lupin was nodding along vaguely. Even Madame Pomfrey was looking downright pleased. England had to resist the urge to congratulate him. Something was going on. England narrowed his eyes and took Prussia in. It wasn't a spell, he hadn't touched his wand, how exactly had he gotten that anyway, which lay on the bedside table. If anything the feeling rushing over England right now was almost familiar. So familiar he could almost name it.

England's eyes settled on a circular shape under Prussia's shirt. His eyes widened as he realized what was going on and England darted foreword grabbed the offending object and pulled it off the man. Instantly the dazed looks of agreement vanished from everyone's expressions, except strangely Dumbledore's. England threw him a suspicious look wondering if the man had known about the charm and been resisting it. The Nurse and werewolf looked at England amazed as Prussia pouted.

"Veela hair necklace." England told the as he quickly destroyed it with an _incendio_. "When the hair is given freely it will provide a similar effect to that of a Veela, it makes people more trusting of the person wearing it and can even cause attraction, that though not as strong as that of a Veela can be very potent."

Madame Pomfrey let out a furious hiss and gave Prussia a glare that scared England. Lupin looked like he'd been shot and slightly sick.

"That's why I believed your story about the heart condition." Lupin said starring at Prussia horrified. "You could have been a murderer or a pedophile and I let you near Harry without a fight."

England stiffened and looked at Prussia furiously. If the Prussian had done anything even slightly to the Potter child he would personally find away to kill him or if not make him spend the rest of his possibly immortal existence writhing in pain. For now though he needed to know what exactly Prussia had done.

"Heart condition?" he questioned. Prussia who'd been watching Madame Pomfrey warily answered.

"It was really an awesome excuse if I do say so myself. I said I had a heart condition that was potentially fatal. The magic during Apparating and using the floo could make it act up and kill me. That's why I was on the train to see Dumbledore." Prussia told him sounding a little proud of himself. He turned to look at Lupin with a frown. "Besides I'm not a murderer or a pedo, so no harm no foul."

Lupin did not look convinced. England though had bigger concerns. Dumbledore's expression was the same. In fact he looked downright mischievous, before England had a chance to comment though he spoke.

"Let's give these two a chance to talk things out, besides I believe Mister Potter is here to see Madame Pomfrey." Dumbledore said the last part so sweetly that England almost gave up right then and there, but then he realized who exactly Dumbledore had mentioned. The blonde man starred wide eyed as with a flick of his wrist Dumbledore revealed a blushing small dark haired boy hiding behind the curtains that gave the beds some privacy.

England felt a pang deep in his chest and a flare of warmth. So close to the boy England could physically feel the waves of his mother's Old Magik radiating off him. All England could really think of for a few seconds were his two boys, Alfred and Matthew, and when they'd still needed him and listened to him. When they were still a family. Harry looked at England startled with big green eyes and England realized his eyes were getting blurry. He looked away quickly, but not before he saw Harry's embarrassment.

"Professor McGonagall sent me." Harry said weakly. Madame Pomfrey hissed slightly and England looked up to see her dragging the boy away. Lupin was shaking his head and muttering as he quickly left the Hospital Wing, apparently deciding to go to the feast and Dumbledore pointed to the door and then at the floor silently informing England he'd wait there. Finally alone England turned towards Prussia with a fury he hadn't truly felt since th Spanish Armada.

"What the bloody hell are you doing here?" England demanded. Prussia's eyes flared at the challenge and he was on his feet before England could react.

"Because some bastard who claims to be a gentleman refused to keep his part of the bargain." Prussia hissed.

"I was inebriated! You can't honestly expect me to be held responsible for what I do under the influence." England countered coldly and almost wished he hadn't. Prussia looked furious and for the first time England remembered that Prussia used to be powerful. And despite his lack of a nation he could seriously injure England in a fight and possibly win.

"You will keep up your end of the bargain Arthur Kirkland or I will make you wish you had never heard of the Kingdom of Prussia." Prussia told him softly in a voice so cold it made England's skin crawl. In all honesty England was mystified. All this fuss because he didn't carry out his end of a bet? A bet that was rigged? That couldn't be all there was to the story.

England narrowed his eye coming to a conclusion. "This isn't because I didn't keep my word you bloody git. This is because you're avoiding something. What is it did you get into a fight with your brother or something?"

"Or something." Prussia replied face going eerily blank, but his eyes dark and surprisingly serious. Suddenly England felt very uncomfortable. This was personal and England did not do personal very well. Especially with nations he didn't know very well despite centuries of knowing each other.

"Listen you did give me your word England and if you really didn't feel honor bound why the hell are you here? Why not ditch me and quit the job?" Prussia said changing the subject. England tried to think of an explanation, but there was some truth to the Prussian's words. England probably wouldn't have come here without Prussia. He might have been curious, but he would have left Harry in Dumbledore's, usually, wise hands. Truth was England was only here because of that bet with Prussia, he might be able to get around the having to have Prussia with him the entire year clause, but to not do any of it, even if he was drunk, would be dishonorable. Plus England really did want to be around people who didn't think he was insane because he thought riding a broom was not only possible, but inspired an internationally popular sport.

"Fine." England snapped, hating himself for giving in, but knowing Prussia wasn't exactly going to leave anyway.

"Good because I already signed a contract with Dumbles." Prussia said with a smirk. "You couldn't have got rid of me anyway, know that that's settled. What do you want kid?" England spun on his heel to find a reluctant Harry Potter approaching.

"Er, that Veela thing can make people attracted to someone wearing it right?" the boy questioned voice sounding unusually high pitched. England instantly understood the implications and was horrified to think of his Savior liking _**Gilbert Beilschmidt**_ any in way, shape, or form.

"Don't worry kid the Veela hair necklaces get the best of wizards and some witches. If you thought that was bad, just wait until you meet a real Veela." Prussia assured him, sounding annoyingly smug, but almost kind as weird as it was. Harry hesitated.

"So I'm not…?" Harry looked at them uncertainly. Prussia stepped around England and patted the boy's shoulders.

"Calm down kid, you'd know if you were." Prussia assured him with a serious face England couldn't recall ever actually seeing before. Harry relaxed and threw England an embarrassed and slightly pleading look.

"I heard nothing." England assured him blandly. "I've become mysteriously deaf the past few minutes."

Harry grinned and muttered quiet good-byes. The boy was clearly relieved and looked light as a feather. England turned on Prussia the instant the boy was out of hearing.

"You know very well it only attracts those who are already inclined." England told him disapprovingly. Prussia scowled in his direction.

"Well you didn't exactly correct me, besides the kid clearly isn't ready to accept it yet. You have to let them discover it at their own pace. That's how I raised West anyway." Prussia told him cheerfully and threw an arm around his shoulders. "Come on now that we're roomies you need to learn how to appreciate my awesomeness. So lets forget about the whole lying and sneaking into your country thing."

"**Roomies!**"

…

After the introduction of the new teachers, the student-teacher, and guest speaker Hermione looked over the Great hall carefully. Mr. Kirkland, the new student-teacher, was looking almost as viciously at Gilbert Beilschmidt as Professor Snape was looking at Professor Lupin. Away from the teacher's table Harry was looking unusually happy. Which was making Hermione suspicious.

She had noticed of course that her friend couldn't keep her eyes off Gilbert, Beilschmidt felt awkward as well as Mister so she would settle for his first name until she came up with a proper title, during the train ride. Hermione couldn't say she was surprised. It had become pretty obvious her friend at least noticed boys differently. Even when describing what happened with teenage Voldemort last year Harry had always notably mentioned how attractive and handsome he was. Besides Hermione just knew, she had excellent Gay-dar, a phrase she'd picked up form some cousins who'd studied in America during a college semester. Her mother claimed it came from Hermione being a fourth French. Ignoring the blatant racism in that comment Hermione was starting to wonder if that was true.

Was she the only one who saw Percy and Penelope Clearwater having a thing for each other? And why was it that she knew her friend was gay, or possibly bi, before he did? Not that he appeared to be accepting it she decided. He'd either convinced himself otherwise or had come to terms very quickly in his ten minute trip to the Hospital Wing. Noting Ron was glaring across the way at Draco Malfoy Hermione had to fight the urge to scoff. Any fool could notice the UST between the two boys. Hermione wondered idly how their families would react when the hormones hit. Looking grimly across the Hall Hermione had a different thought. Why was it that the attractive boys, which she actually talked with enough to form a relationship with all liked the same gender she did. Honestly she'd consider Fred and George if she didn't think both of them had a thing for that pretty Chaser Angelina Johnson. That would certainly end badly if one of them didn't find someone else. Sighing again Hermione bemoaned her status as oldest in her house. Knowing the intimate workings of hormonal teenagers while being a hormonal teenager yourself was not fun. Maybe she'd get lucky and Blaise Zabini, one of the only decent Slytherins she'd ever spoken to, would turn out to be straight. Though judging by the looks he was throwing Theodore Nott maybe not.


	6. Chapter 5

**AN: This was actually one of my favorite chapters to right, even though it really is just breakfast. Reveiwing inspires quicker updates and helps me finish the outline.**

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Arthur Kirkland And the Job

Chapter Five

When Prussia woke up the next morning he was so happy that he didn't even mind it was practically the crack of dawn. It wasn't like he wasn't used to waking up obscenely early, what with West's precious schedule. But usually he would just pretend to get up until West left, then lock all the bolts on the basement door and put on the sound proof headphones he'd bought off America. Even Alfred had his uses it turned out. Not even West's dulcet tones could penetrate his, precious, precious headphones. After West's initial wake up three was his usual time of rising, unless he was tempted by fresh pancakes that is—

Prussia quickly brushed away the memories accompanied with such a thought and quickly dressed whistling to himself to keep his mood buoyant. Ignoring the dark mutterings from a certain Brit across the room Prussia loudly left and slammed the door behind him. The answering curse and thump of someone falling out of a bed was quite satisfying. Just because England had agreed he could stay, not that anyone could resist his awesome self so failure really hadn't been an option, didn't mean Prussia had forgiven the bastard for his abandonment. No, far from it, he fully intended to have revenge in millions of petty ways leading up for a grand finale right around, about Halloween if he could get replacements for the potions he lost in Diagon Alley early. Skipping a little at the pleasure of revenge and knowing he was finally going to be doing something interesting, and certainly not thinking or dwelling on unhappy memories or nightmares, Prussia began whistling the theme to Silent Hill.

As if sensing the song of a horror movie a creature of darkness turned into Prussia's path, glowered at him hatefully and turned his back to Prussia to walk to the Great Hall. Prussia smirked to himself as he settled in beside the man, changing to the Jaws theme. The man sped up in an attempt to lose him and Prussia happily matched him. Seeming to realize Prussia was a stubborn bastard, thank you very much, the man gave Prussia look and continued on in hate filled silence.

Prussia was distinctly impressed the look was so withering it was almost on par with Francis when you spilled ink all over his suggestive pictures of Romano. Not that Prussia ever had, And he'd most definitely not mailed those same above mentioned pictures to Spain and told him to guess who had them. Iceland, whom Spain had somehow thought sent them, got off lucky when Prussia convinced, he did not beg, Romano into saying it was his subtle way of informing Spain he may be willing to go to the next level. Honestly by then Romano, and everyone else in the world, would be willing to tell whatever lies were necessary or sacrifice Iceland to Spain, as Belarus had very _kindly_ suggested, to get rid of creepy-oh-my-god-its-Conquistador-mode-run-like-hell-you-pure-bastard version of Spain.

When they got to the Great Hall and Prussia sat beside the man at the teacher's table, Prussia honestly thought for a second that he was going to get shanked, but somehow the man restrained himself and instead speared his eggs like they were Remus Lupin. Well Remus Lupin in the man's case, Prussia had saw the looks the friendly werewolf got. Now Prussia was thoroughly impressed. This man had restraint, now how far could Prussia stretch it? Prussia barely felt the sinister smile grow on his face as he took in his new toy.

"What's your name?" Prussia questioned sweetly, making the man give him a 'you-are-so-stupid-you-should-have-been-killed-off-by-natural-selection-along-time-ago-so-that-nature-could-assure-you-would-never-breed' glare. Damn he was expressive too, usually only France managed a look so detailed and even his longest was only five words.

"I believe you were informed last night." He said coolly, black eyes glimmering with what Prussia recognized as a desire to draw blood. Prussia grinned in response and noticed with amusement his fork was almost bent double in his clenched hands.

"Come on, got me some slack. My awesome self had just endured the un-awesome presence of walking Depression." Prussia countered, making a look of blatant horror appear on the man's face, before it was replaced with another murderous glower.

"I'll keep bothering you until you tell me." Prussia informed him challengingly. The man seemed to weigh the option of giving in and having to listen to Prussia longer. Apparently he couldn't handle Prussia's awesome nature.

"Severus Snape." He snapped curtly and focused on his pate. Prussia snorted at the name.

"You've got to be joking. Who makes their kid a walking alliteration?" Snape bristled, but ignored him. Prussia looked him over calculating the best ways to get a reaction.

"So, how long have you worked here?"

Death glare, but silence.

"What's your favorite color?"

Just a twitch at that. Hm, Prussia would guess he wasn't a pink fan.

"What's your favorite movie?"

Didn't get that one if Prussia was judging by the brief confusion in his toy's eyes. Psh. Wizards.

"Come on I'm trying to socially interact and form supposedly important work relationships with my colleagues."

Snape looked at him as if he was an affront to mankind. "In what possible way have I acted to allow you to delude yourself into thinking I would ever consider having any sort of 'relationship' with you. Because whatever it is I need to know so I will not give any other annoying fools false hope."

"You didn't stab me with the butter knife." Prussia informed him smugly. Prussia rather enjoyed the sight of pure hate fill Severus Snape's eyes. Prussia also finally remembered that Snape was the Potions Master. Prussia decided he should probably drink only things he himself brought from now on and not eat anything he hadn't already seen others eat. It might even pay to hire a food tester, maybe one of those little eleven year olds? Prussia pushed the idea away deciding to give it further consideration after lunch.

To Prussia's disappointment though, Snape didn't react further, in fact other than giving him a sneer and occasional Death Promise via eyes, he ignored Prussia's presence entirely, which in all honest made Prussia want to bother him all the more. This was something worth researching and going at from different angles, observing Severus Snape critically Prussia decided on his pet project for the year. But despite the promise of entertainment later at this moment Snape bored Prussia. Clearly Prussia didn't know enough about him to get a real reaction. Bored he turned to look around the Hall. Noting the quickly approaching figure in UBHME T-shirt, jeans, and trainers Prussia perked up. Finally conversation.

"Hello Gilbert," Charity Burbage greeted him with a bright sparkle in her green-grey eyes. Prussia's answering grin, unbeknownst to him made Snape shiver in horror and have flashbacks of being locked in a broom cupboard for seventeen hours with Black after James Potter had given him an almost identical one. Black had been about as happy as Snape and therefore more unbearable than normal.

"Here for breakfast?" he asked his new, and _friendly_ coworker hopefully, while giving Snape a disappointed look meant to communicate how decidedly unawesome he was currently being.

"No," Burbage answered, chirping like a song bird. "I've got to get ready for class. "I'll see you at nine." With that she stole one of Prussia's muffins and practically skipping. Prussia sighed as he watched her leave, not only was he stuck with someone who refused to appreciate his awesomeness, for now anyway, but there went the other only person who dressed normally around here.

Prussia himself was dressed dark jeans, a semi-formal button up shirt and tie, to show he was being serious or some such shit, and flip-flops. Because flip-flops were the greatest creation ever. His current ones were black with little Gilbird-esque yellow birds on them. And therefore the best birthday present West had ever gotten him.

Prussia sighed and noted that the students were entering. At first his eyes focused on a familiar boy practically strutting to one of the tables. It's the one with the white-blonde hair and West's hair cut. He'd caught Prussia's attention on the train because of the resemblance to West, but now he drew it because of how the students were looking at him. At the other tables it was dislike or distrust, but at his table he was clearly the leader, even the older students seemed to acknowledge him. It was different from the Harry boy who drew attention from his own table in a similar way. Harry didn't notice it, but this boy did and he wore it gladly like a badge of honor.

"Who is that?" Prussia demanded pointing at the boy after elbowing Snape ni the ribs. Snape gave him a dark look, but seeing who he was pointing to he went downright glacial.

"That is Draco Malfoy," Snape said, glaring at Prussia with blatant suspicion. "My Godson." The threat in his voice was just too much like Antonio's reaction to any perceived threats to Romano for even Prussia to dare comment further. Seemingly satisfied Snape went back the skewering his food. It didn't take long for Prussia to become bored enough to attempt to speak to him.

"So how exactly does the house thing work?" he questioned sweetly, after dragging his eyes away from the sight of hundreds of birds descending. It reminded him of that Alfred Hitchcock movie.

"Did you pay attention to _**anything**_ last night?" Snape hissed, spinning in his chair to face Prussia.

Prussia grinned with pleasure at the sight. "No."

Snape looked downright murderous, but didn't dare do anything because Dumbledore chose that moment to walking in and sit down. Having his options taken away Prussia made sure to repeat the question as sweetly as possible. And under Dumbledore's watchful gaze Snape was forced to act civil and began a very curt, very hostile explanation. He was so absorbed in his hating of Prussia he didn't even notice Lupin sit one sit away from him. Lupin looked downright bemused by the lack of hostile greeting and Prussia laughed out loud, interrupting Snape's explanation.

"If you aren't going to listen you can—" Snape began what would no doubt have been a very violent, very detailed explanation of what Prussia could do.

"Oh, I was listening. Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, Slytherin." Prussia said waving away Snape's words. Before Snape could decide to finally kill him Prussia continued. "But it doesn't explain the animosity between the four houses. Especially towards Slytherin."

Snape stiffened and gave Prussia a withering look, but for the first time willing deigned to explain. Prussia swore it looked like the man was impressed by Prussia's observation, which would have been nice if it wasn't for the fact any self-respecting three year old could have came to the conclusion.

"During the War a great number of the Dark Lord's supporters were from Slytherin as the Dark Lord himself was. Afterwards the Slytherins bore the brunt of the Wizarding Worlds punishment. This is nothing to the months immediately following the War. It doesn't help the Black's escape threw the War fresh into the memories of those who'd lived through it." Snape explained expression dark. Prussia nodded understanding perfectly and looking over the students thoughtfully.

"What was it like pre-Voldy?" Prussia asked curious. Snape twitched a little at the name.

"I wouldn't know I was raised during his rise to power and arrived during the start of the War." Snape explained curtly. Fort he first time Prussia didn't reply and decided to remain silent looking over the Hogwarts population carefully, thoughts running. Prussia didn't bother to acknowledge England when he entered and sat beside Snape, pointedly ignoring him. Ignoring this Prussia rose to his feet thoughts still focused on the Slytherins. He saw England stiffen in the corner of his eye.

Not bothering with a good-bye Prussia left England's suspicious gaze following him. Right before he got out of hearing range he heard England demanding to now exactly what Snape had said to him.


	7. Chapter 6

**AN: This will be the shortest chapter in the story and it was inspired by the USUK "Your Call" video on YouTube by clau68522.**

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Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Six

Even before his brother came in screaming about their British father figure being abducted by aliens Canada was having a bad day. When he'd woken up that morning he'd found Kumajiro had destroyed the pillows in his sleep again. Then he'd spent an hour searching for some documents he was supposed to send to fax to his Boss. And after he'd called in to tell his Boss that they'd be late, and gotten a sever chewing out because of it, he'd found them under the phone bill on the kitchen table.

But if Canada was being completely honest everyday for the past few weeks had been a bad one. Ever since, he still flinched at the ripping in his chest the memory caused, the ill-fated confession to his Prussian best friend. Prussia had tried to act like things were normal, but Canada could sense how uncomfortable he felt around him. And though it made him feel like he was dying, even though he'd spent countless nights sobbing into Kumajiro's fur, even if he suffered for the rest of eternity watching Gilbert from afar, Canada hadn't and wouldn't fight back as Prussia drifted off. He'd ruined everything on that stupid seemingly perfect day in the snow.

He would no longer even have the comfort of seeing him almost every other morning at breakfast demanding pancakes. He wouldn't be on the receiving end of random kidnappings to his brothers house. He wouldn't wake up to his friend next to him in bed, having collapsed there after a night of drinking with France and Spain or Germany. He would no longer be able to savor those moments pretending that they meant more than they were. To be able to pretend that Gilbert loved him as his warm form lay next to him pressing lightly against his side with one arm thrown carelessly over Canada's chest. He would no longer have the opportunity to absorb the peace and joy of those moments as he memorized that beautiful sleeping face. He would no longer be tackled from behind by hugs 'just because' at World Meetings by the only person who always knew who he was. And never again would he be able to gently trace his sleeping face and perhaps steal a kiss from the sleeping form. It was all gone.

Prussia seemed disgusted with him now, never meeting his gaze and barely acknowledging him. It was like their decades long friendship was erased completely. Even his sweet, oblivious brother had noticed enough to comment and it had taken hours of lying to convince Alfred that he was fine. Canada was getting very good at lying recently. He had to lie constantly to his brother, his Boss, the other nations, and even himself to keep things going despite the shattered soul inside him. Prussia had taken all the light and most of Canada with him when he rejected him.

Then he found his phone and saw it flashing with a message from Prussia. For a moment Canada had been frozen simultaneously with fear and a terrifying painful hope. Prussia hadn't called or even texted him since that day. It had been so silent without the in the middle of the night calls and off the wall texts that had warmed Canada's sad, lonely life. Numbly the nation opened the text and read it. His world shattered for a second time.

**Hey Birdie.** Even through the pain his heart skipped a beat at the nickname as he remembered the glow that always came to his friend's eyes when he'd used it. **I'm going to be gone awhile, an extended vacation, so don't expect to be seeing me much. I know it's really sudden, but I sorta gotta give West his space now that he and Italy tied the knot. I just wanted you to know so you didn't think I was kidnapped by aliens or something else that sounds like your brother could come up with it. Don't worry. -Gilbert**

Canada had driven him off. He felt like he was having a breakdown. Then he realized he was having one and tried to stop the hyperventilating, but he couldn't. He gulped the air like a suffocating fish desperate for the essential part of life ripped away from it suddenly. He was shaking all over. Gilbert had been so unable to stand him he'd ran. He'd never seen Prussia run from anything, and yet Canada had accomplished it. He feel to his knees shaking legs unable to support him. He felt his forehead hit the ground but didn't react, he was too busy crying and screaming on the inside, because he couldn't get enough air to breath much less release some of the pain ripping him apart.

It wasn't until a bleak endless hour later that he regained the ability to move, he felt like a robot as he went about his day, feeding the concerned Kumajiro and calling his Boss to tell him he'd found the papers. It wasn't until he was eating that he'd made pancakes in his daze. They tasted like ash.

That was when his kitchen door was thrown open by a loud shouting American.

"MATTIE! IT'S AN EMERGANCY IGGY'S BEEN TAKEN BY ALIENS! I NEED YOU TO BE MY SECOND-IN-COMMAND IN MISSION RESCUE IGGY!" America shouted barreling in without knocking.

When his brother froze horror and worry blossoming on his face Canada realized something. He'd been silently crying the entire time and hadn't noticed.

"M-Mattie?" America question blue eyes wide as he shakily walked towards his brother. Canada stared up at his brother dazed as he approached slowly, like Canada was an animal that would startle. When his brother gently touched his shoulder looking strangely terrified, an unusual expression for Alfred's face, all the self-control Canada had gained broke and he grabbed his brother's shirt and screamed his heart out, not caring about the tears or the show of weakness or about anything else at the moment.

America held his younger brother terrified of Mattie's pain and vowing to kill the person who'd done this to him.


	8. Extra 1

**AN: I wrote this while working on the next chapter, but it wouldn't fit in, but I liked it too much to just cut. so I'm posting it anyway. I should have the next chapter done by Friday.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Extra: Granger Family History

**1553**

"_The fall should have killed you." the boy said bluntly retaining his calm despite the shock he'd received. His clever dark brown eyes were round with shock and awe, but his handsome features worn from hard work equal parts curious and suspicious. England, who was still recovering from his rapidly healing snapped neck, silently cursed his foolishness as the flush of embarrassment still lingered on his pale features. He'd been in such a hurry to get to Mary's said when he heard of her location and the gathering army in the true queens support he'd been reckless and his horse had startled throwing him as it twisted a leg. The horse would heal, but now he was stuck explaining to this child who was no older than fifteen, why the well dressed nobleman he'd seen almost lifeless on the ground was up and moving._

"_I have no time to explain this to you lad. I have to get to Her Majesty. We don't have much time. Forces are moving against our Queen." England snapped impatiently. The boy calmly picked up the ax he'd dropped when England fell and straightened pulling himself to his full height, only slightly taller than England, his eyes going black in seriousness and clear warning._

"_I'm not letting you get anywhere near Queen Mary, until you explain that my Lord, because only a witch or demon could recover so quickly from such a wound. If you are not such a creature and a true blooded Englishman you'll understand why I can not allow a creature like that near Her Majesty." the boy growled, impressing England with both his eloquence and loyalty to his sweet Princess, now queen, who was finally to come into the legacy Katherine had left her._

"_You speak well for a peasant." England noted out loud slowly getting to his feet. The boy didn't waver, speaking coldly in turn._

"_The priest was a friend of my mother and made sure I learned my letters and how to speak. Now answer my question what are you? Englishman or creature?" the boy demanded tightening his grip on the ax._

"_As English an Englishman as it is capable to be." England told him, amused by the boy's threats even as he was impatient to leave so he could be at Mary's side. "In fact I am England."_

_The boy instantly relaxed and actually smiled. He looked relieved. "That's good to know my lord. You had me terrified you were something otherworldly. Mum has a horse in the barn. She was my Dad's during his soldier days, but Dad's dead and we'd be happy to lend her to you for the Queen. Bessie is old, but she's reliable."_

_England starred a few moments at the boy's smiling dirty face. Normally it took forever to explain to his citizens what exactly he was even if they felt the instinctual draw to him. He caught himself though and regained his composure. "Thank you lad,you may have Heart for your services to God and country."_

_The boy looked at the horse, which was worth far more than he'd make in a lifetime even when injured, and shook his head, clearly overwhelmed. "No my lord I couldn't. It's just the right thing to do is all."_

"_I insist lad, and enough of this my lord, you my call me by my christian name, Arthur." England told him liking the boy even more and clamping a reassuring hand on his shoulder. "now come I need to get to Her Majesty."_

_The boy nodded weakly, gently helping the horse along behind them. After a few moments of quiet he spoke though. "I'll keep her if you insist my lo—I mean Arthur, even if I'm not worthy of such a noble beast, but I'll have to insist you call me by my name."_

"_Which is?" England questioned smiling at the boy's audacity. He looked at England with intelligent dark eyes and spoke with solemnly._

"_Arthur Granger."_

_England laughed. But couldn't resist asking, "why did you believe me so easily Arthur?"_

_The boy looked a little surprised. But when he spoke there was a hint of amusement in his smile. "Why because my Grandmum never stops talking about the charming young blonde soldier she met under King Henry's reign who she swore up and down was England itself."_

…

**1567**

"_That shot should have killed you, Captain." the young sailor said looking at England with curious brown eyes. _

_England was filled with an odd sense of just having the exact same encounter. He was saved from answering though from the boy's rather clumsy administrations to his wound. England let loose a vile string of curses, which the solemn faced youth easily ignored his intelligent eyes watching as his usually nimble hands, England had seen the boy work, worked to bandage him. When they'd finished England could see a Spanish ship burning as it sunk and grinned with malicious glee. There was something so satisfying in being her Majesty's Personal Pirate. Or as the Spanish called him Capitán de infierno Kirkland. Hell Captain Kirkland they called him. It mad him laugh at the terror his name inspired in Spain's people._

"_You're England aren't you?" the boy questioned bluntly, making England jump and then curse again at the pain that tore in his side._

_How had the boy known? England wondered stunned and distracted by his triumph despite the stray bullet. He couldn't remember what the Ship's Boy's name was, he'd only been treating England because the physician had been killed during the taking of the ship and he'd been the only one on board with any medical knowledge because he'd assisted Dr. Saylor. It had been a shame to burn the prize ship, but England and his men had been enraged by the good doctor's death. He didn't look forward to bringing the news to his widow with her daughters and infant son, who'd been named after England. Dr. Saylor had been a friend of England's even before he'd volunteered to join his ship and his grief over his friend had made him savor this particular fire more than others. Now he would have to deal with boy who apparently knew too much._

"_How do you know boy?" England asked tiredly, as much as he enjoyed the burning blood that always raise din him when taking a ship he'd need to deal with the prisoners soon and as fun as harassing Spain's people were he didn't look forward to telling his men to keep away from the now widowed pregnant ship captain's wife and all her pretty daughters. England was still a gentleman after all, deep, deep down somewhere._

"_My name's Joseph Granger."_

…

**1642**

_The First English Civil War._

"_I'm Mark Granger."_

_These Grangers were really annoyingly persistent, England thought drily._

…

**1690**

_Battle of the Boyne._

"_Harry Granger, my Lord, and don't worry dad said not to worry over much if I saw a slender blonde lord with bright green eyes get mortally wounded. I'll just get you some fresh clothes so you can be presentable when His Majesty comes looking for you."_

_A cheeky Granger, that was something new England thought to himself amused._

…

After that he lasted a long time before he encountered another Granger.

…

**1777**

"_My God! The family stories are true! You really do exist!" the soldier shouted looking at England dumbly as he pulled a bayonet from his chest. England flinched at the pain and the blood flowing onto his shirt. That was his favorite shirt dammit._

"_Yes, I exist, now shut up unless you want to bring the rabble on us." England snapped and the boy's mouth closed with an addible **snap**. England through the pale boy, child really. He couldn't be more than fifteen, how he'd managed to sneak over was beyond him. "They really aren't making Grangers like they used to. Even Arthur did not react like that and he was convinced I was a demon bent on devouring queen Mary's soul."_

_The boy blushed and quietly helped him up, passing him the bandages as the embarrassment clung around him and his pale pink face. He had the eyes though, England noticed. Those dark brown Granger eyes._

"_So what is you name?" England asked when they finally made their way back into the camp. The thus quiet boy jumped and looked at him with thinly hidden mortification. "Come now it cannot be that bad."_

"_Britannia Arthur Granger." the boy said with a grimace. "Mum thought it was patriotic."_

_England bought the boy a drink later for laughing at the **very** patriotic naming skill of his mother._

…

After that it was nearly a century and a half before he met another of the family that always stumbled upon his secret.

…

**1918**

_England cursed himself to the lowest pits of hell for his stupidity. The day before the damn war ends and he gets shot and forced into the hospital. It wasn't helping that America had looked so damn amused under all the uncharacteristic worry. Because England couldn't get shot somewhere normal, no he had to get shot right in the ass. And to make matters worse his doctor had suspicious dark brown eyes. It was only a matter of time and he knew it. Sure enough a few hours later the man showed up looking agitated and stubborn. A man on a mission for answers._

"_I'm the human personification of the United Kingdom. If you have any questions tell your superiors that Arthur Kirkland, codename Scones, sent you." England told him tiredly and closed his eyes on the mustached man's familiar eyes. "I am going to sleep." _

_After a few minutes footsteps signaled Rory Granger's departure. England smiled to himself it was almost good to see a Granger again._

…

**1944**

_The first thing England did when he saw the eager dark brown eyes of the fresh off the boat and new to the battlefield Arthur Granger was drag the boy, well to him, he was really a man at twenty-five,and explain his family legacy to him and point blank forbid him to tell anyone who he was. Then England caught up on the news of the Granger family and more specifically how Rory was doing._

…

**1979**

_England hadn't really expected to be hit with a car that day, but apparently fate and John Granger had different plans. It had taken most of the ride to the hospital to convince him that England was perfectly fine physically and mentally. His wife had certainly helped, telling him of the charming man her mother had been courted by before leaving France to marry her father. Jean was a rather good woman for someone half French. John though had insisted the doctor check him out while he rushed his in labor wife to the delivery room. England have of course been fine and actually gotten to hold the newest Granger. He'd always liked the name Hermione._


	9. Chapter 7

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Seven

England left Hogwarts after lunch more than a little wary of what the rest of his first day would bring. History of Magic, his first class at Hogwarts, had been horrible. He prayed the Care of Magical creatures class would be better. The only bright side in the day so far was that Prussia had been too busy talking to Burbage to bother him. Though how one of his citizens, a sensible intelligent one at that, could like that obnoxious asshole was beyond him.

When England first entered the History of Magic classroom he was a little excited about seeing how the class was being taught nowadays. He hadn't come to the school since his lads were colonies. Back then the Headmistress had been Katherine Brown, there had been four uses for dragon's blood, and England had been on top of the world. England had expected things to be different. In fact he'd counted on it. What he had not counted on was the ghost of the Professor who'd been teaching then to still be teaching now. Cuthbert Binns had died in 1776 and when England had heard the news he had been pleased that now Hogwarts could have a History of Magic teacher who did not constantly go on about Goblin rebellions and who had not been infamous during his life for being the one who killed Magical Historian as a profession. Not that it had been incredibly popular to begin with, but since Binns took the post there had been an average of two or three students taking a History of Magic class as a NEWT level class a year. If England hadn't been distracted after hearing the news for obvious reasons he might have heard about Binns's continued position and if he'd arrived at Hogwarts before yesterday he might have had time to talk with the rest of the staff. As it was when Binns floated through the chalkboard to the screams of the surprised first years England felt like he'd been punched in the gut.

It took ever bit of England's self control not to let loose a torment of curse words building on his tongue as he watched what he'd long considered the worst teacher to ever set foot in Hogwarts halls. The fool ghost was if anything worse than when he was alive. England considered slamming his head repeatedly against the stone walls just so he wouldn't have to listen to this sad excuse for teaching. It was made even worse by the fact that it was _his_ history that the bastard was mangling. He envied the sleeping students even as the sight of them made him more furious. Suddenly the months ahead of him didn't seem so vacation like anymore if he was going to have to be constantly restraining himself from marching into Dumbledore's office to berate him about his teachers.

_Please let it be better. Please let the professor be better than that damned ghost._ He pleaded, repeating the mantra over and over again as he made his way down to the hut on the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The sky, was a clear, pale grey and the grass was springy and damp from yesterday's rain. England could practically feel the Forest trembling with life at its latest drenching. England could also feel a soft distinct pulsating that signaled fey magic was near. He would have to track down the source, but more than likely it was a fairy circle. If so it would be a wonderful place to celebrate Samhain. England pushed the thought aside for now, tensing as the Gamekeeper's hut, and the students gathered there, came into view.

England got curious looks as he approached and barely suppressed a groan at the sight of the house crests on the student robes. Gryffindor and Slytherin. There was no way this would end on a positive note. And on that uplifting thought he noted three other things. One, Harry Potter was in this class. Two, a slender white-blonde boy who could only be a Malfoy was too. And three, England really should have seen this coming, the girl standing beside Potter was a Granger. Hermione Granger to be exact. Intelligent brown eyes and all. Now England had to fight the urge to run. The Malfoy family had been a bunch of arrogant berks since they came from France and the every time England saw a Granger not only did they always find out he was a nation, something that was supposed to be a secret, but it was always the result of him being fatally injured or, on one memorable occasion, shot in the ass. The way the girl was looking at him told him two things. She had most definitely inherited the Granger intellect and their curiosity. He should have known that after being hit by a car by her father the day she was born and helping name the child he wouldn't be rid of her so easily. He would have to be careful now and he needed to tell Prussia the same.

"C'mon, now, get a move on!" The loud voice called. "Got a real treat for yeh today! Great lesson comin' up! Everyone here? Right, follow me!"

It was the large shaggy bearded individual, currently in a moleskin overcoat, England had been introduced to as Rubeus Hagrid. There was a large boar hound beside him, fierce looking, but England recognized the look of a sweet dog when he saw one. England pushed passed the students to get beside the man as he led them to a large paddock. The boar hound barked happily at England's arrival and England calmly patted the exuberantly wiggling creature as he came up beside the man.

"Hello Professor Hagrid. Arthur Kirkland, we haven't been formally introduced." England said politely, offering the man his hand. Hagrid looked a little stunned, not moving for a few moments, before England's words seemed to click and he shook England's hand nearly crushing it in his own looking very proud of the new title.

"Good to meet yeh. The Headmaster said yer Grandfather and him was good friends. He's takin' a shine too yeh and any friend of Albus Dumbledore's is a friend of mine." the man said with a wide welcoming smile. Looking into those warm black eyes England realized the boar hound wasn't the only one whose rough exterior hid a sweet soul.

"And who's this admirable fellow?" England asked giving the boar hound another pet. Hagrid gave the hound an affectionate look and his smile went even warmer.

"This ol' dog is Fang. Yeh just watch me the first lesson and if yeh can watch the back of the group I'd appreciate it. They'll be trouble with this mix." Hagrid told him revealing he knew exactly how Gryffindors behaved towards Slytherins and Slytherins treated Gryffindors.

"Of course." England said, and because he knew it seemed to make the man happy. "Professor Hagrid."

England quickly made his way to the back of the group, noting some of the Slytherins hung back and seeing the Malfoy was among them. There was a certain rebellion and disdain in the boy's face that told him that if trouble started he would be at the center of it. The class quickly crowded around Hagrid looking at the empty paddock curiously and, England noted with interest, some wariness.

"Everyone gather 'round the fence here!" Hagrid called. "That's it—make sure yeh can see—now, firs' thing yeh'll want ter do is open ter books—"

"How?" said a cold drawling, voice that, of course, belonged to the Malfoy.

"Eh?" said Hagrid.

"How do we open our books?" the Malfoy asked, revealing one bound with a length of rope. The other students pulled there's out showing several had bound with different means, from belts to binder clippers.

"Hasn'—hasn' anoyone bin able ter open their books?" Hagrid asked looking crestfallen.

A little less than half the class raised their hands, garnering startled looks from the others. Hagrid seem to perk up at that. England decided it had been a good idea to get an updated version of the book. The book store workers certainly had appreciated him teaching them the trick to the books and apparently it had benefited the students.

"All of yeh who do help the ones that don' know how. Yeh've got to _stroke_ 'em." Hagrid informed the class grabbing a sandy haired Irish boy particularly vicious book when it went for his nose and giving it a quick pet with his large finger. It shivered and fell open obediently.

"Oh, how silly we've all been!" the Malfoy jeered. "We should have _stroked_ them! Why didn't we guess!"

Once again the man looked defeated. "I—I thought they were funny."

"Oh, tremendously funny!" the blonde continued further digging his hole. "Really witty, giving us books that try to rip our hands off!"

England quickly moved from his forgotten place in the back and, with a satisfying _smack,_ hit to boy resolutely in the back of the head, causing him to yelp and jump away eyes wide and stunned. England didn't allow his amusement to show at the reaction and kept his face cold and unforgiving. When he spoke it was in his Pirate Captain voice. Terrifying to anyone on the receiving end.

"Ten points from Slytherin for cheeking a professor, Mr. Malfoy." England said in his own, much more intimidating drawl. The boy looked a little paler at the sound of the voice, but apparently had an oddly Gryffindor streak of no self-preservation instincts.

"What?" the Malfoy said indignantly. "You can't take points away. You aren't even a real professor."

"Make it twenty. You'll find I can and will Mr. Malfoy." England informed him coolly. The boy looked furious, but seemed to catch himself, realizing that England would actually do something. England could see the effort it took him to back down with a dark look on his pale face. The Gryffindors were all hiding a smile and the class quickly settled. England gave Hagrid a small supportive smile over the students' heads and the man straightened looking much more confident at having his country, though he didn't know it, in his corner.

"Right then. Yeh've got yer books I'll go get yer Magical Creatures." England barely heard him to busy helping a round faced Gryffindor boy whose book was making a very successful attempt at devouring him. By the time he'd gotten it off the boy's robes had rips in them and England's own were nowhere near as neat as they had been.

"Oooooooh!" a girl's voice squealed and England turned in time to see Hagrid leading in some magnificent Hippogriffs.

"Hippogriffs!" Hagrid called happily, clearly emboldened by the positive response. "Beau'iful, aren't they?"

England couldn't help, but agree having always had a soft spot for these particular creatures. The rest of the class, even the surly Malfoy seemed to agree. Then England realized he should get a bit away from the creatures before they recognized him for what he was. Countries, especially those in tune to magic like himself, Romania, and Norway, had a very odd effect on Magical Creatures and even Magical sites. Hogwarts itself seemed to welcome England after all, its almost sentient magic had almost squeezed him in welcome and just being around it energized in a way he hadn't felt in years.

He moved too late though and the gray Hippogriff spotted him and sent up the call. The others heard him and quickly began struggling against there bounds. England sighed and made his way to the paddock, calmly pulling himself over the fence and approaching the excited animals to the gasps of astonishment of the class. Barely pausing in his walk he gave a deep respectable bow. Without a moment of hesitation the Hippogriffs dropped to their knees and were instantly up allowing England to pet them wiggling like happy puppies.

There was a stunned silence and then Hagrid caught himself, smiling widely.

"See! That's how yeh do it! Who wants to go first?" Hagrid asked looking enthusiastic. The class all shared a look all untied for a moment in their wariness, but then they looked at England and a few stepped out. England wasn't too surprised by Harry Potter, but the others caught his attention. The round faced boy, looking simultaneously terrified and determined, the Malfoy, and a thin weedy Slytherin boy with dark hair. The Slytherins looked at their fellows like they'd gone mad and with a put-upon sigh a well dressed, handsome black boy stepped up beside the Malfoy giving him a look that quite clearly stated he did not want to do this, but the Malfoy had forced his hand. Instantly the gangly red head England had spotted near Harry before and Hermione went to support Harry.

Hagrid was thrilled, but England was a bit more wary and whispered under his breath in the Fey tongue that all animals understood to go easy on the hatchlings. The Hippogriffs gave their approval and England quickly passed the gray one, Buckbeak, Hagrid introduced, to Harry, the black boy, and the Malfoy. To the round faced Gryffindor and the weedy Slytherin he gave the more gentle pinkish roan. The chestnut seemed eager to get to Hermione and the red head, giving them a curious look, mainly because England had betrayed an interest in them and the young Hippogriff was clearly curious as to why a Speaker would care about these particular hatchlings. Then Harry rode the gray one, which quite frankly was a terrifying experience for England, watching him slip and slide down Buckbeak, even if the Hippogriff assured him he'd be careful with him.

The class was eager to get started at the success of their classmates and soon the students were preoccupied with their individual creatures. England almost relaxed as he and Hagrid settled to over look the activities. Eventually Hagrid began introducing the students.

England recognized most of the old names. The Weasleys, whose founder he'd been drinking buddies with. The Browns, a bastardized line of the Blacks. The Patils, an Indian family who'd come during Victoria's time on the throne. The weedy boy turned out to be a Nott, a relatively new family as far as Purebloods went, but with many connections and a wealthy one. And the round faced child was a Longbottom! He'd known Augusta and Neville Sr. before they'd had Frank. Augusta was a battle ax, but it seemed the child, Neville's namesake, took after his more gentle grandfather just as Frank had. The black boy was a Zabini, not too surprising. That expression of flirtatiousness he was wearing next to Daphne Greengrass was something he'd seen on Romano around a pretty girl. The Nott boy, England noticed in the corner of his eye, did not look too happy about this development.

"This is very easy." a familiar voice drawled to England's left and before the boy could finish England was already tensed, sensing impending doom. "I bet you're not dangerous at all, are you? Are you, you great ugly brute?"

England was flying at the boy before he could get past dangerous, but he only just made it in time to push him out of the way of those steely claws. England, though, wasn't so lucky and was caught on the right arm. The blow sent England reeling back and he feel over the sprawled, screaming form of Draco Malfoy causing him to trip and hit his head on the ground.

England saw stars as the pain struggled to catch up with his daze on impact. When it did he lost complete control of his mouth and was letting loose a long and colorful string of curses. There was blood everywhere even though England could tell Buckbeak hadn't gotten him that deep. The screaming of the panic class wasn't helping the struggling Buckbeak, who was both still furious at Draco and wanting to get to England to apologize. Hagrid was struggling to put him up looking very pale. England snapped and stopped his cursing long enough to settle them.

"SHUT UP!" he snarled and there was silence. Seeing the stunned expressions, he pushed himself to a sitting position and examined his wounds frowning. They were bloody, but superficial, they were already stopping, but he did look a mess he could even feel some on his face, no doubt giving him a even more grisly image. Calmly England turned to Buckbeak.

"_It is fine, allow Hagrid to put you back, I will heal within the day and I must calm the hatchlings._" England told the creature in the fey tongue, which stilled instantly to the surprise of Hagrid, who quickly took advantage and moved him away before rushing back to England's side. When he tried to help the nation up England shook his head and waved his hands away.

"I'm fine." England assured him and the class as he got shakily to his feet, though no one looked convinced at this. "This is hardly the worst wound I've ever received and it looks much worse than it is."

Then England turned to the trouble maker, who seemed to be trying to collect himself, but was still very pale and, England noted, trying desperately to wipe off the bit of England's blood that had gotten on his face. England went cold and unrelenting.

"Thirty points from Slytherin for not listening, screaming like a girl, and endangering your classmates Mr. Malfoy." England snapped, causing the Slytherins to gasp. That would but the Slytherins in the negatives, if that was even possible.

"My father will hear about this!" Draco growled, looking like the petulant child that he was. England was strongly reminded of his sons at their worst, and even then they hadn't been spoiled.

"The day I'm scared of a boy whose only threat is his father's power, not his own, is the day I become a bloody Frog." England snapped and because the child still looked ready to speak he continued. "And detention for threatening a teacher."

The boy's eyes bugged and but Blaise Zabini grabbed his arm in warning, not that Draco needed it. The boy was clearly fuming, but just as clearly defeated. Hagrid quickly dismissed class and to England's protests carried him to the Hospital Wing. As England was getting patched by by the medic witch, who was hissing like an angry goose, he prayed that the rest of the week would turn out better, but he knew that in Hogwarts and being himself that was very unlikely.

...

"Malfoy is pretty lucky Kirkland has quick reflexes." Ron observed as they made their way back up to the common room. Harry nodded, thinking to himself about Professor Kirkland rescuing Hagrid and getting onto Malfoy. He'd looked pretty scary at some points, Harry definitely wouldn't want to get on his bad side, but he'd still taken the hit for Malfoy. Hermione though made a noncommittal hum, her mind clearly elsewhere.

"What is it Hermione?" Harry questioned recognizing the signs that his bushy haired friend was trying to work something out. She jerked as if just now realizing they were there and looked at them with a look in her eye that told him that she'd be holed up in the library soon enough.

"I was wondering about the Hippogriffs reaction and what Professor Kirkland said to them. He's very interesting. Gilbert is too. Professor Burbage and he kept going back and forth during our lesson. It was very stimulating. I wonder how Professor Kirkland and Gilbert know each other." the last part was said to herself, but Harry answered as if it were a question.

"They were friends, apparently Gilbert and Kirkland made some sort of bargain involving working at Hogwarts together. Kirkland was drunk when they agreed. Kirkland tried to ditch Gilbert though, while Gilbert was at his brother's wedding." Harry explained a matter of factly. Both of his friends froze and stared at him.

"How do you know that?" Hermione demanded sharply. Harry smiled sheepishly at the accusing look and disbelief on their faces.

"I overheard them talking when I went to the Hospital Wing." Harry admitted. Ron shook his head and Hermione looked put out.

"And you're just telling us now, mate." Ron said looking a little offended. Harry shrugged to hide his embarrassment.

"It slipped my mind." he said feeling even more sheepish. Hermione's eyes widened and shook her bushy head as if she couldn't quite believe him.

"Slipped your mind." she repeated under her breathe, but before Harry could say anything straightened as if remembering something suddenly. "I'll be at the library. I need to check something."

The two male friends shared a look as she hurried away.

"I give it until Christmas before she knows their life stories." Ron said calmly. Harry grinned.

"You're underestimating her Ron, she'll have it by Halloween at latest."

…

When Professor Lupin arrived late to the first Defense Against the Dark Arts class England hoped it wasn't a sign. The man had been punctual with the other grade levels and, to England's relief, a very competent and engaging teacher. He and Hagrid, though the man was a little overwhelming in his misguided guilt over the incident with Buckbeak, made it possible to get England through his first week without snapping. History of Magic was starting to wear on him and it was taking all he had in him to keep his head down and his mouth shut. It was pure torture though. And the Prussian was enjoying every second of it. Not only did he keep making references to the Goblin wars every chance he had, but he somehow, God only knew how exactly, convinced the ghost to visit their quarters and the Great hall during the meals to continue "their fascinating discussions on the Goblin Wars." The truth was everyone was suffering and England was quite sure the reason Burbage gave Prussia the day off was so the rest of the staff could figuratively sacrifice England in hopes to appease Prussia and be rid of the ghost professor.

As it was the albino had been following him everywhere today and being a pest the entire time. England was seriously starting to regret the fact he was pretty much immortal and was considering AK-ing himself just to get an hour of peace before he woke. When the class walked in, yet another mixture of Slytherin and Gryffindor, England almost cried. There was no doubt any longer. It was an omen. Today was going to be even more hellish than it already was.

As the class settled Prussia went quiet examining the group with odd interest as they looked back at him, their curiosity piqued by his Muggle clothing. He actually waved and loudly greeted the students from his class with Burbage, all of whom looked embarrassed by the attention. The Slytherins especially looked horrified. Only the surprising Theodore Nott and Hermione Granger kept their cool. Only Hermione actually returned the greeting. As soon as the Slytherins had settled, those Prussia had called out to were interrogated. Theodore looked completely unapologetic and the Zabini boy, Blaise, was being fervently whispered to by his incredibly incredulous looking friend Draco.

Finally Lupin entered and told them they were going to the staffroom. England didn't relaxing already knowing the lesson and knowing this was going to go horribly wrong. Prussia was suspiciously quiet, Slytherins and Gryffindors were together, and England could practically feel the looming disaster.

He was screwed.

And as it usually was before the storm, the situation seemed calm. Lupin began the class quickly absorbing the students attention and even Prussia listened seeming interested, but stopped once they began the practical part.

"What are we doing about the October meeting? You've already missed one." Prussia said, looking oddly thoughtful and interested. England never trusted Prussia when he acted normal, but decided to enjoy it while it lasted. They still needed to discuss some things after all.

"I sent Scotland in my place for September, my boss is in charge of giving the excuses. Other than that I don't care. I told him to keep it on a need to know basis, so he should have told the boys and anyone important. For now I'm enjoying a well deserved vacation." England answered honestly and completely unselfconsciously. The World Meetings never accomplished anything anyway and besides Germany would probably be thankful. As long as England was there France didn't have anyone to argue with, which meant it would be quiet for at least the first thirty minutes it took America and Russia to come up with a believable excuse to try and kill each other. They might actually be able to get at least half a power point in. Besides England was tired, even with Prussia there to annoy him and Binns as a thorn in his side, this was the closest thing to a vacation he'd had in decades. And quite frankly being around so much magic was doing wonders for him. He felt almost back to his old pirate self, without the gold, whores, and kicking Spain's ass.

Prussia nodded seeming to understand where England was coming from and, truthfully, England suspected he would. The conversation relaxed at this and soon they were talking like normal. England slipped in a warning about the Grangers, which amused Prussia to no end, but he did, after laughing, agree to be careful around the girl. Then they fell on a more relevant topic. One England had been curious about, but had the chance to speak of. So he asked. Prussia seemed eager to speak.

He told him all about how Italy and Germany had been celebrating Germany's birthday with a special gift. Their first time. Apparently after Italy had rejected Germany's first proposal, it startled England to realize Germany had even proposed he was so emotionally self-conscious, their relationship had been rocky and Germany had been terrified of putting himself out there. Italy had also been scared of admitting he felt anything more for Germany than that of a friend, because his heart had already been broken once before. England still remembered that cheekily Holy Roman Empire and knew it was a sensitive subject for Prussia. As sensitive as the American Revolution was for him. Eventually though Germany and Italy had grown back together and after some misadventure that involved Italy apparently time traveling and realizing that Germany was in fact Holy Rome (England barely held his "Bloody Hell!" inside at this announcement), some Asian reversion incense that allowed Germany to tap into his old memories, and some more time travel they'd started their current strong romantic relationship. It seemed though, Romano had been unaware of the change, (England suspected even Italy had known better than to mention it to his brother) and when he'd burst in unexpectedly into Germany's house he'd been unprepared for what he'd found.

After a brief struggle, some gun shots, and with Spain's assistance, they tied Romano down and Italy explain over the course of two and a half hours why exactly Romano had to accept his relationship. And finally he had. But he refused to allow them to sleep with each other and had dragged them both to the nearest government establishment where gay marriage was legal and they had a shot gun wedding, Romano having somehow gotten back a hold of his hand gun.

"But Feli says being dragged to the courthouse by your irate brother and his lover isn't romantic enough, so he's planning a big one in the summer. Everyone's invited. And I mean everyone. We'll probably get our invitations in June so get your date ready before hand." Prussia explained trying to keep his normal arrogant smirk on, put a proud beaming grin that matched his glowing eyes and the warmth in his voice kept bursting through. "Being my awesome self I'll e the best man of course."

England was about to say something, watching the classes progress out of the corner of his eye when it happened. Ron Weasley's Boggart slowly began to roll towards Harry Potter and without any other thought than the burning, terrifying image of Voldemort appearing in the middle of a classroom England did the only thing he could.

He shouted, making it focus on him instead.

The chaos that followed happened in slow motion.

At first the Boggart hovered in the air, a formless grey blob, trying its best to find what scared England most. The classroom was speechless, but England was perfectly calm, Occlumency shields, tight and unbreakable, in place. Slowly he raised his wand, but then to his right there was movement, catching the formless clouds attention.

England's mind barely had time to register that he was seeing Prussia, moving foreword with a curious look on his pale face to get a better look at it when it began to change.

It turned into Prussia an exact mirror copy, only horribly wrong. His eyes were dead and he looked listless and completely cold. Their was something horrifyingly pitiful and sad about the dead look the mirror-Prussia had. And then he was falling to dust as if he'd never been.

The real Prussia looked shocked and pale, before he, or England could recover the Boggart was already changing again.

_Crack_.

Holy Rome dead and bloody on the floor, starring with lifeless accusing blue eyes at the albino.

England's stomach flipped at the sight and he felt more than saw Prussia fall to his knees beside him, England couldn't look away too horrified and shocked trying to process what to do.

_Crack._

Nazi Germany, bandaged and crying looking at them all with horror filled, guilt ridden eyes. He drew a gun from his side and readied it. He looked at Prussia right in the face and sobbed. The gun was pressed to his temple too fast for England to see the movement.

"_I'm sorry, East_." Germany said in a broken voice.

Then he pulled the trigger.

_Crack_.

The resulting screams snapped England back into motion and he jumped in front of the shivering albino as the Boggart began to morph again. There were things much worse than Voldemort in nations' pasts. Truly horrifying things that would break normal humans. He didn't know what could be worse than what he'd just seen and he didn't want to find out. He only saw a curly hair before the Boggart focused on him. He forced his Occlumency shields back up.

England was too slow. He couldn't close all the cracks before the Boggart latched on.

_Crack._

It showed a tall handsome man with blonde hair and matching stubble smiling at England with pride and wonderment, his bright green eyes glowing. And then he suddenly jerked foreword, falling to his knees. The man looked shocked and horrified down at the sword that was through him. It was pulled out from behind and instantly the blood began staining his tunic. He looked up at England betrayal and sorrow deeply etched in the eyes that were mirrored on England's pale face.

"Son." he gasped and for the second time England watched Arthur Pendragon fall.

The class gasped at this but England barely heard it.

_Crack._

A woman in a nightgown appeared smiling mischievously at England. She was a tall very slender woman, with a tiny waist, small bosom and beautiful, long fingered hands. Her red curly hair was free and flowing. She had a long, thin face, high cheekbones, and a pointed chin. Her dark eyes glinted under thin, arched brows and over a high hooked nose.

England's insides twisted with a mixture of joy and pain at the sight of the woman he's last seen four hundred and thirty-four years ago on their "wedding night" as she'd dubbed her coronation, claiming that becoming the anointed queen of a country was as good as marrying said country.

"Elizabeth," England breathed, and realized he was shaking at the sight of his beloved queen and wife.

"Hello husband." Elizabeth greeted with a small sweet smile she'd always reserved especially for him.

God, he'd almost forgotten that smile. Then she was falling apart, rotting right before his eyes. England's head spun at the sight and he did the only thing he could manage. Close his eyes against the terrible sight, ashamed and cursing his uselessness hoping Lupin would intervene before this could get worse.

_CRACK._

"I hate you!" yelled a familiar voice causing England to open his eyes in pure shock. "You aren't my real father!"

England took a step away from the Boggart-Alfred as if the words were a blow. They felt as much like one as they had when he'd first seen them a little over two centuries ago. The sight of Alfred, so young, so filled with hate made England loose it. Any sense of calm evaporated at the tearing pain the sight, the words, caused.

Suddenly a small figure stepped foreword and shouted.

_Crack._

A Dementor appeared and England gained control of himself at the slightly trembling form of Harry Potter as the horrid creature bore down on him. England made his Patronus out of the good things; Elizabeth's smile, Alfred's obnoxious laugh, Canada's sweet stubborn loyalty, last Christmas when all his family had been gathered together, even Hong Kong, and the love he felt radiating off Harry Potter that allowed him to think of all these things. A magnificent lion charged out of his wand and with a roar that caused the room to shriek it forced the Boggart-Dementor into the wardrobe. England used his wand to slam it shut and the moment it was finished his legs gave out sending him to the ground beside a very pale, very shaken Prussia.

It had taken at most five minutes, but England felt like he'd just experienced centuries of his worst memories all over again.

"Miss Granger get Madam Pomfrey, everyone else, class dismissed." Lupin ordered in a calm, soothing voice and before England could blink he was beside them, the class rushing out behind him. Time seemed to pass more quickly than normal, because England swore he'd just blinked and suddenly Madam Pomfrey was there bending over them with a torn serious expression. "Shock." she said seriously, sounding a thousand miles away. "Take them to the Hospital Wing."

The world was tipping.

"Catch him!" a woman screamed.

Black.


	10. Chapter 8

**AN: I am so ashamed. So very long without an update, without being to write anything and all I have for you is this. Short little thing it is. But do not fear, school is out and all those evil EOCs and Finals are finished so I have a few sweet weeks between now and Summer classes at the college to write on this. At least next chapter will begin the two major plot turns and, finally, the begining of Prussia's revenge. Also to the reviewer who asked about where Italy got married, the Pope owed him a favor/likes him and Romano was there and despite being religious was not above threatening His Holiness. The Pope decided since they were nations they _techniquely_ didn't have a gender despite what their bodies have and besides he really didn't want to get shot. Also didn't know that, so thanks for the information I might need that for another story. And if that explanation doesn't work for you think of it this way in the books Rowling mentions Dudley having a Playstation before they were invented and the Minister is a male when in reality at the time there was a female so Harry Potter world doen't have to be with our _actual_ politics exactly to still be right.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Eight

When Prussia opened his eyes he swore he smelled blood. But then quick flashes of memory returned and the next thing he knew he was hanging off a bed vomiting. A pan seemed to appear out of nowhere and Prussia heaved into it, eyes burning with blurring tears. He felt a weight shift on the bed and then a warm hand stroked his back comfortingly, pushing back his hair and wiping his face with a damp rag. Prussia couldn't even feel shame at someone seeing him like this he was so absorbed in his misery and the sights and memories that damned creature had brought to the surface. He leaned against the warm weight of whoever was nursing him and kept heaving even though his stomach was empty. Without him realizing it his heaving turned into sobbing and that comforting hand allowed him to fall in their lap.

It wasn't until he was done, spent physically and emotionally that Prussia realized the person who'd been comforting him had been mumbling to him softly, meaningless quiet babble meant to assure. Words you'd say to a sick child.

Prussia pulled himself up and scooted away as soon as he realized it, pride stinging and shame making him hot and red faced. Prussia stared at England silently, for once completely lost for words. England quietly handed him the damp rag he'd used on him and Prussia took it, shakily beginning to clean himself not meeting the green gaze that never wavered from his face.

When he'd finished, England took it without a word and the pan Prussia had vomited in, reeking bitterly of vomit, and disappeared through the white curtains keeping the bed Prussia occupied hidden. Prussia frowned as he recognized where he was. Twice in one week he'd fainted and been sent to the hospital because of memories. Damn, he was losing his touch. But even as his hurt pride started to rear its head and shame at his weakness, it was all he could do not to keep replaying the horrors he'd seen before he fainted.

If he didn't focus on something anything soon, he'd be pulled back into his nightmares. On that battle field when Holy Rome fell. Smell the blood and see his brother's broken small body. Know it was his fault. Only, unlike in reality, Holy Rome wouldn't wake up scared and empty. No his brother wouldn't move no matter how much Prussia screamed. Prussia gripped the sheets panic bubbling in him as the memories started to worm back in. He could so vividly see that last moment with Germany right before the allies found them. Prussia had been running all over the city searching for him that day and found Germany alone starring out the window at Berlin looking like he was being burned alive. Prussia had been forced to watch his brother sob and confess his worst sins, curse his weakness for not being able to stop Hitler. Germany had felt so guilty, it had killed him and in his guilt he almost killed himself. In Prussia's nightmares he didn't get to Germany in time, he wasn't able to get the gun away and he saw his little brother shoot himself, smell the blood and know yet again he'd killed something he loved.

"Drink this it should help a bit." a voice ordered quietly, but firmly and Prussia looked up relieved to be dragged back to the present to see the very pale England holding out a small brown cup to him. Prussia took it, noting silently that England looked just as weak and sick as Prussia felt. Prussia downed it quickly, but instantly recoiled at the taste. Something almost like amusement flickered in England's eyes for a moment, but quickly died leaving him solemn faced leaning on the bed railing at the foot of Prussia's bed. Prussia finished his 'medicine' and was surprised to find his nausea disappear, along with much of his nervous energy. The memories also seemed to fade to the back of his mind, leaving him empty and cold, but, blessedly, free of them for the moment.

"What is it?" Prussia asked England. The blonde didn't answer at first taking Prussia's empty cup and setting on the small table beside the bed. Then he settled on the bed and looked the Prussian over sharply. Seeming to decide Prussia wouldn't keel over anytime soon he spoke.

"No idea, the Potions Professor made it. It tastes like shit, but it works." England said. The albino snorted.

"Understatement Eyebrows." England's lip twitched to an almost smile, which after a minute Prussia returned.

They sat for a moment in silence and Prussia realized maybe England wasn't a total bastard. Not that he was forgiven. Prussia was still totally gonna get him back. But it would be with some comraderie, and as his brother, Spain, and France could atest, Prussia liking you only guaranteed pay back meant he put more effort in.

After all putting time in showed he cared.

...

By the end of the day everyone had heard of the Boggart and the unexpected trip to the Hospital Wing, where the two men were still being kept by a very fierce Madam Pomfrey. Even the slight undercurrent of amusement over Snape in drag didn't distract the student population of Hogwarts from talking about Professor Kirkland and Gilbert. In the Gryffindor Common Room, by the fire Hogwarts' infamous Trio was also discussing the events of today.

"Kirkland's got it rough. Wife and dad dead, and his kid hating him. Wonder why Beilschmidt's scared of dust though? I guess the people were close to him, but why dust?" Ron said looking sympathetic to the losses though clearly perplexed by the other fear. Hermione, who'd been focused on a book Harry wasn't quite sure was even English, looked up at Ron for the first time in the past hour and rolled her eyes.

"He isn't afraid of dust. He's afraid of dying." Hermione said and then focused on Harry brown eyes concerned. "Is something wrong Harry? You've been rather quiet."

Harry jumped a little and nodded. "I'm fine, just thinking."

_About Gilbert, _he thought feeling oddly guilty. Hermione's eyes lingered on him a moment longer, sharp and searching, but was instantly distracted when Ron leaned over to try and sneak a peek at her mystery book. With his perceptive friend distracted Harry relaxed. He'd thought his thoughts about Gilbert were supposed to stop after that necklace was gone, but so far no such luck. Harry felt tongue-tied and hot every time he was near him, he couldn't stop staring at him, he found himself eavesdropping every time Gilbert's name came up in a conversation, and thoughts of him would not go away. Harry felt like he was going insane. _What was going on?_ He asked himself one more time looking into the Gryffindor fireplace and the happily crackling fire within mournfully.

...

"What do you really know about the boy, Albus?" Minerva McGonagall snapped eyes fierce, her entire stance giving the impression of a lioness about to rip some poor unfortunate animals throat out. Unfortunately for Albus Dumbledore it seemed today he was the object of his Deputy's ire. It was a position he was familiar with and it was always unpleasant for the victim of the Scottish witch's temper. Especially when she was feeling protective.

"I would also like to know." the smooth cool voice of Severus Snape concurred, his black as flashing his lean dark figure standing resolutely beside Minerva in a rare moment of agreement. Where Minerva was a lioness Severus was a dark coiled serpent ready to strike at anything that got too close to his nestlings.

Albus sighed softly, as much as he preferred Severus and Minerva getting along they only ever allied with each other when they wanted to oppose him. Minerva was unrelenting when she argued with him and Severus was not beyond playing dirty when he felt it was necessary as long as it didn't go to far, because beneath it all Severus Snape was a deeply honorable man. Together though they were a forced to be reckoned with.

"I've spoken with Arthur's grandfather and he has assured me of both their characters, I've also taken the opportunity to glance into both of their minds and I felt loss and sadness. I do not think we should hold a tragic past against these young men. They have done nothing to make cause for any suspicion. And until they do such I see no reason for you to be so hostile towards them." Albus said firmly hoping that would be the end of it.

"You're evading the question." Severus said eyes narrowing and voice dripping with accusation. Minerva glared at him so fiercely he had to fight the urge to flinch.

Of course they couldn't leave it at that. That would have been too easy though. Albus sighed realizing he would have to give in, just a little and reached into his desk to get to files. Minerva looked curious and Severus eyes them sharply. Albus calmly opened them to reveal pictures of both men, pictures in their respective matching files. Minerva actually looked stunned, though Severus seemed approving.

"You have files on them." Minerva said looking amazed, but quickly shaking it off and following Severus's lead to get a closer look. Albus calmly pulled the files to him not allowing his Deputy and spy to read them.

"He has files on us all." Severus said lightly, looking put out at being prevented from reading them. Albus examined him sharply. It was true, of course, but only himself, and possibly Fawkes, knew about those.

"The point of my showing you these are that I know enough to give these boys my trust." Albus said instantly, wishing to diverge their attention before Minerva could focus on the fact he was keeping a secret file on not only her, but all of her coworkers. "Now what questions do you have?"


	11. Chapter 9

**AN: Neither Prussia nor England's point of view and Canada's back!**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Nine

The first month of watching Beilschmidt unforgivably abuse and torment Kirkland had been amusing for Severus. After most of his doubts about them had been removed it had been easy to sit back and watch the albino have his fun.

Then October started and suddenly Kirkland wasn't the most interesting person anymore.

Severus was horrified, the annoying man hadn't spoken to him since the first day and now he found himself the sole focus of all his unwanted attention. To make it worse the man had _researched_ him. And not just a little he knew disturbing, private things that he shouldn't be able to know. Like what under Severus was wearing any given day and about the embarrassing tattoo he'd gotten one drunken night in Sixth year that not even his fellow housemates who'd convinced him to get it were sober enough to remember. Beilschmidt followed him everywhere and had a penchant for showing up at Slytherin-Gryffindor classes before him and giving long elaborate lectures about horrible inappropriate topics, from "How would Professor Snape look in a Speedo? Yes or Definitely YES?" to "Why Prussia is superior to all other countries and why Russia should simply be dropped into the oceans to suffer a long painful death. Discuss.". And inexplicably the students enjoyed them, even his Slytherins though Severus could tell they fought it were falling over the man's sway, something helped by the fact he took an unnatural, in Severus's opinion, interest in them.

The rest of the staff had found it amusing, though Dumbledore had encouraged him to "make friends". Kirkland in particular had been unsympathetic and smug about the change, actually skipping the first day.

By the time Flitwick came to see him for the monthly teacher Pub visit after the last of their trimonthly Staff Meetings, Severus was only getting through the days sane due to copious amounts of alcohol and planning increasingly complex, painful ways to kill the pest. He was at the point that he instantly agreed to Flitwick's polite offer, which by now was more of a habit than a viable suggestion, surprising the small man so much he was actually speechless. Severus didn't find it necessary to explain the only reason he was agreeing to go was because his Firewhiskey stores were running low.

The Gods must have truly hated them because, as Severus found out when he arrived at the Three Broomsticks a little later than the others, Kirkland and Beilschmidt had chosen for today to be their first time going to the pub with them. This of course meant the staff was going to use this opportunity to interrogate the younger members. Severus had tried to flee, but Minerva and Hooch grabbed him and frog marched him over to their table, Minerva wearing her damnable smile the entire time.

The larger than normal group was a little off putting. What with Hooch, Minerva, Burbage, Hagrid, Trelawney, Lupin, Dumbledore, Flitwick, Beilschmidt, Kirkland, and Severus all at one table. Severus grimaced finding himself stuck between Dumbledore and a sour faced Kirkland, who kept throwing dark looks at the laughing albino beside him. Severus was a little surprised the staff didn't instantly maul Kirkland and Beilschmidt for answers, but guessed they'd figured that a little alcohol would loosen their tongues.

When the drinks arrived, Kirkland opting for a small Butterbeer and scowling at it the entire time, while Beilschmidt mockingly drank some Firewhiskey, they began the interrogation.

Kirkland answered the questions as simply as possible clear uncomfortable with the whole thing. This only made them more nosy and finally Dumbledore took pity on the boy and went into a long description of his Grandfather which led to many tangents and almost made the staff forget what their main purpose for the night had been. Hooch, gossip monger that she was, brought things back into perspective and started on Beilschmidt who seemed much more open to the idea talking at length about his little brother. Despite his ease and all the talking he did, Severus noted he gave away just as little if not less than Kirkland did, while making it seem as though he hadn't. Severus narrowed his eyes at the German with new interest and suspicion. Beilschmidt it seemed was more Slytherin than Severus had given him credit for. Not always a positive thing.

Before Severus could consider this much though Hooch began insisting Kirkland had a "real drink" and with Beilschmidt's helped dragged the struggling man off towards the bar. Severus relaxed as the others drifted off into separate conversations and occasionally other tables. Even Dumbledore was distracted turned towards another patron discussing knitting patterns. Now Severus could enjoy his drink in almost peace.

"Not very open about their pasts are they?" Minerva said casually slipping suddenly into the vacated seat beside him.

"Beilschmidt more so than Kirkland." Severus pointed out casual refusing to be surprised by the suddenness, despite how his first instinct had been to grab his wand when she'd appeared.

Minerva nodded looking thoughtful. "Albus's information was good, but how well do you think he really knows them?"

"They're keeping secrets I know that much." Severus said and after watching the two mentioned, Kirkland now pointedly friendly and laughing, continued. "But I do not think they are a threat. For the moment."

Minerva paused watching them both with a slyness she rarely displayed. "For now. I have a feeling both of them have a great capacity for darkness in them, but neither would hurt the students. Kirkland watches them with a parent's eyes and Beilschmidt dotes on them, especially your Slytherins and a few select others. He's still fair though, which is nice for everyone I'd say."

"Perhaps." Severus said noncommittally. Minerva smiled and turned to him with a mischievous smile.

"So," she began casually. "How thoroughly do you think my lions will trounce your snakes this year?"

Severus narrowed his eyes, but it was more teasing and friendly than he liked to acknowledge. "I think we both know that it will be mine who will be doing the trouncing old woman."

Minerva grinned and they were off. Their Quidditch arguments kept them busy for another hour and quickly dissolved in the traditional "whose house is better" argument that was never settled. Severus was just about to snap something back when music started playing. Surprised, music rarely played in the Three Broomsticks, to a rather unsteady Kirkland with a sultry smile and a slap happy clear drunk Beilschmidt both standing on the bar little orbs of light floating away from them through which the music was emitting.

"_Ladies your damn right you can't read a man's mind._" Kirkland began hips starting to sway slightly grinning as large as Beilschmidt now. "_We're living in two tribes and heading for war._"

"**Nobody's perfect,we've all got to work it, but fellas we're worth it so don't break the ****law.**" Beilschmidt cut in, hips swaying in time to Kirkland's.

"_You call's late, big mistake, you've got to hang about in limbo for as long as I take. Next time read my mind and I'll be good to you._"

"**We're gift wrapped kitty cats, we only turn into tigers when we got to fight back.**"

"_Let's go Eskimo, out into the blue._"

And then they both started singing together arms thrown around the each others waists.

"_**Come take my hand, understand that you can, you're my man and I need you tonight. Come make my dreams. Honey hard as it seems, lovin' me is as easy as pie. I-I. I'm just a love machine, feeling my fantasy. Give me a kiss or three. And I'm fine. I need a squeeze a day instead of the negligee. What will the neighbors say. This time?**_"

That was when they started dancing. Severus was horrified to admit it, but they weren't half bad even if the sight of seeing them suggestively dancing around each other was wrong on so many levels. Many of them having to do with the fact that Severus had not drunk enough to be able to sanely watch his fellow staff members start joining the cat calls the twining around each other and swishing hips without missing a beat in the song incited from the crowd. Minerva looked similar scandalized by the scene.

When they finished the song to the thundering applause of the crowd Kirkland, grinning drunkenly stepped forward and promptly tumbled off the bar. Minerva decided then it was time to leave and made sure everyone knew it. Nobody wanted to argue with the thunderous, threatening and clearly embarrassed look on the Scottish witch's face. She quickly left to go retrieve Albus from his in depth all consuming discussion about knitting patterns muttering under her breath about "shaming the school", "proper behavior", and "being seen in public with".

A suspiciously sober looking Beilschmidt easily dragged Kirkland to his feet, and when it became obvious the man couldn't walk a straight line despite his protests, threw him over his shoulder revealing a surprising strength in his rather thin form. Something about the diabolical expression on Beilschmidt's face and his laughter ("Kesesese!") made Severus wonder if he should do something in the vulnerable, inebriated Kirkland's defense. But then, remembering the man had been the one who'd given Beilschmidt the directions to his private rooms, shrugged deciding it couldn't effect him and anything that made the albino stop bothering him was a good thing.

…

At first Canada was sensible about America's overreaction. After his breakdown had passed they called the Prime Minister, who told them England was busy with a project they are working on, but they'd probably see him at the September Conference. When Scotland was sent with England's papers Canada was a little worried, but he accepted the excuse of England being sick from food poisoning. When the next World Meeting happened without England returning any of Canada or America's phone calls they both decided it was time to panic. Especially when others kept coming up to them asking if they knew where England was having had similar problems contacting him. They confronted Scotland who muttered something vaguely about a Giant Squid and escaped. Then they contacted the Prime Minister only to have him hand up on them. Canada agreed with his brother now was the time for action. England would never be this irresponsible or inattentive to his work. What he didn't count on was the group.

"It doesn't look like anyone's been here in weeks." Norway commented as they entered England's house. At the usually quiet man's words any thought of a reasonable explanation vanished from Canada's mind leaving him with a deep feeling of dread and fear. Even when he'd realized this was unusual behavior he'd held out some hope for something to prove America's increasingly paranoid suggestion about what had happened wrong.

America disappeared at that comment so quickly Canada almost didn't see him move. The others looked disturbed, by the action and the normally loud American's silence. Canada wasn't surprised though.

"Maybe he just hasn't cleaned recently." Seychelles suggested her tan skin unnaturally pale. Canada shook his head and he saw Hong Kong grip Iceland's hand in a fierce grip at that. Seychelles though looked crushed and scared. Canada felt for his step-siblings even through his own feelings of worry and unease. They'd both come to America and him, worried, but not really expecting anything bad having had similar problems contacting England as the others. Iceland had insisted on accompanying Hong Kong, making Canada remember that he'd recently started dating his step-brother after years of being friends. He was one of the reasons Norway had come. Apparently he didn't trust Hong Kong with his little brother. He hadn't been completely without concern for England though. He'd been concerned enough to bring up the fact that England had already missed two Magic Meetings. Denmark, well honestly he was probably just here because Norway was. And Sealand, well he was only here because Sweden and Finland couldn't find a babysitter and when that happened Canada would take him when they remembered he existed.

"It will be alright." France said stepping forward to place a comforting hand on Seychelles shoulders, but looking into Canada's eyes when he spoke. "Your Papa will find him I promise."

Canada nodded to France acknowledging the words, his eyes watering slightly at the worry and love he saw mixed in there. No matter how much they fought his two fathers cared about each other even if neither could admit it. Seychelles leaned back into France allowing him to hug her in a rare allowance of physical affection and comfort. Seychelles had been complaining since she'd become the age equivalent to a human eleven year old that she was too grown up for France's sometimes smothering affection, because it was for babies.

"Oh God." It wasn't said loudly, in fact Canada wasn't sure how he heard it, but the second he did his legs were moving and he was rushing towards America's voice. Canada found his brother standing in the wreck that was once England's immaculate kitchen. Glass was shattered everywhere, things were torn open, and the back door was left hanging. Canada took all this in as he moved to America's side and pulled the shaking man into a tight hug.

"Do you think someone took him?" America asked voice tight and high pitched, sickly looking his eyes refusing to move from the destruction. "It looks like a fight. But who could have taken him? He isn't like me, but he's still a country and knows how to fight like all of us."

"I don't know."Canada admitted feeling useless and dizzy as the others followed in. America laid his head on Canada's shoulder not able to look while the others displayed their shock and horror.

Everyone was convinced it was something serious now.

They decided to search the rest of the house breaking up into groups. Seychelles and France. Iceland and Hong Kong. Norway, Denmark, and Sealand. America and Canada. America took to it face carved with determination and cold fury, that Canada, once he was passed his shock, shared. Whoever did this would not get off easy. They started looking for anything moved or missing that could be a clue for why England had been taken. While in the back rooms Canada saw something surprising.

The basement door was open.

That door was never open. England kept it locked and Canada had learned quickly as a child not to try and go down there. The door knob had shocked him and when he'd attempted a lock pick in a rare moment of rebellion he'd been knocked unconscious. After awhile he'd forgotten about it and by now his eyes simply passed over it as if it was a bit of the wall.

And now it was wide open.

"Alfred." Canada said. He tried to shout, but it came out a painful squeak. America heard it anyway though and was there, eyes flashing to the door and instantly understanding the significance.

"We're going in." America said in a tone the allowed no argument. Canada wouldn't have anyway and was through the door before even his brother.

It took a few minutes for his eyes to adjust to the dim lighting, forcing him to fill his way down the stairs, but when he did what he saw was both surprising and not. It looked like the home of a cult. There were hundreds of different symbols, large and small spray painted, inked, and carved onto the walls, floor, and ceiling. The bookshelves covered one wall entirely and Canada recognized scrolls and books with almost every language on earth he suspected. He saw one book with Latin that was made of a pale soft material that made his skin crawl. It looked like human skin. Then there were the tables. Most were covered with strange objects, some he could identify others he couldn't. The largest though near the center of the far wall was under a set of shelves filled with vials and ingredients from what he recognized as aconite to something that resembled a shriveled frog foot, only too big to be any known species and clawed. On the table was an open book, some tools that looked vaguely like cooking implements, and a large cauldron.

"So this is where he moved it." America said mildly looking at the large purple inked inscription on the floor. Then he straightened eyes focusing. "Look."

Canada saw what his brother had noticed. Behind the large table on the ground was an almost empty cloth bag. There was a golden coin hanging out of it.

"They took money whoever they were." Canada observed and narrowed his eyes as he looked over the room again. "You take your half I'll take the other."

America nodded and they separated.

Canada had only just started searching his side of the room when his phone rang. Canada picked it up, mainly because he didn't want to risk missing a call from Arthur, and was surprised to hear Prussia's voice, sounding oddly muffled. Canada's heart clenched painfully at the sound of his voice and then realized what was going on. Canada would have snorted under any other circumstance. It was a butt dial. Canada could easily recognize one now from having America do it at least once a week. Then though someone else spoke.

Although it sounds oddly high pitched, Canada instantly recognized the second voice as England's. All the tension left him. He was alright. With Prussia for some unexplainable reason, but alright. Then he heard the conversation and went numb dropping the phone in shock.

America was there before Canada could blink, face concerned and questioning. But Canada couldn't focus because the world was tipping and he could feel himself heading towards the England's cauldron.

Before America could catch him though, Canada grabbed one of the shelves to catch himself. He felt the vials touch his hand and going falling off, shattering and splattering their unknown contents all over his and America's pants.

Canada didn't care though, but somewhere in the back of his mind and instinctual warning alarm was going off, but was being over powered by the pure unadulterated pain and shock coursing through him,

America only got out "Mattie, what's—" before the liquid seeped through the jeans to the skin and Canada is suddenly on fire, and judging by America's screams, so is he. Canada opened his mouth to call for help, but all that came out was a wordless sound of pain. Then all thought disappeared and the burning was everything.


	12. Chapter 10

**AN: This was probably the hardest chapter I've ever had to write. Everything after this felt like it would come easily, but Prussia getting back at England was hard. This part though was planned since the story started, which might have something to do with it. The original plot and what it's become are pretty different. Anyway it would have been longer if I'd went the way I planned, but that felt awkward, so I just went ahead with this to help me get back into the habit of writing this story. England-Prussia conversation is next chapter and some more on Canada/America's condition. Plus Hong Kong and one of my favorite completely pure crack pairings IceKong.**

**AN 2: Zimsterne is a type of German cookie. Its cinnamon flavored and covered in icing.**

**AN 3: A severe delayed thinks to **_Brotmesseresser_** who corrected my German back in Chapter Two. I was just looking back through it and realized I hadn't fixed it. Thanks for the help! It should be fixed now.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Ten

Having tea with a Defense Against the Dark Arts professor, especially with their legacy of attempted murder, was strange for Harry. True, Professor Lupin was great and his favorite teacher, but it was still surreal and Harry probably wouldn't have agreed to it if not for the Grindylow. And the biscuits. Harry couldn't forget the biscuits. Teenagers would do amazing things for curiosity and food.

"Another zimsterne?" Gilbert asked offering Harry the tray filled with the icing covered star shaped treats. Harry nodded taking one, rather proud he didn't blush as much as usually when Gilbert's bright red eyes focused on his face. Looking a little amused Gilbert offered the others the plate. Lupin took two looking as if he unsure about how exactly he'd wound up in this situation. Harry could sympathize.

Snape declined with a glare that made the albino grin, but did accept Lupin's offer for a refill of his tea. Lupin attempted to hide his pleased expression at the grudging "thank you" he received in reply, ducking his head to disguise the small smile at the barely civil words. Harry supposed they really were quite an accomplishment when you took into account that most everyone thought Snape was honestly plotting the man's murder before Gilbert focused his attentions on him.

Nibbling the German treat Harry allowed himself to consider the fact that he was having tea and biscuits with the strangest group imaginable. His least favorite teacher who in all likelihood would believe the world would be better off if Harry were to mysteriously vanish was to his right, drinking his tea with a scowling face. Harry sometimes wondered what would happen if he introduced Snape to the Dursleys. He'd come to the conclusion they'd either hit it off, bonding over their mutual hatred, or kill each other. He was only torn about who would be able to kill the other first. Snape with a wand or Aunt Petunia with her deadly frying pan and broom combo? Next was his much too old for him maybe, sort of, crush, whom Harry had only recently admitted to himself that he liked. Gilbert was in all likelihood completely bonkers and sat on the other side of the Potions professor. Though Harry supposed Gilbert was more like Lockhart than Quirrel in the insanity department. Harry had recently began to feel a bit of sympathy for Hermione sense he had admitted his crush (miniscule as it was) to his very own self-absorbed, incredibly handsome egomaniac. Harry couldn't help but defend his (barely there) crush's existence by the fact that at least Gilbert wasn't all talk, Hermione had admitted he was quite intelligent and hardworking when it came to teaching and he was clearly a strong wizard to be able to sneak into Hogwarts. Then there was Lupin, his sickly Defense teacher who, for the time being, did not seem to be actively trying to kill him, sitting across from Harry looking contemplative as he went for a third biscuit.

He found it less strange than he thought he would, which was in itself probably should have been more worrying than it was. Harry was starting to wonder if Hogwarts was affected your perception of normal.

"So, poker?" Gilbert finally suggested the silence seeming to become too much for him. Harry blinked and realized Gilbert looked bored. Which in their Potions class had always lead to tangents on obscure spells (Hermione always died a little inside from the pure joy of it when the albino started talking), Snape in various forms of lingerie (which should have been more disturbing than it was, but Snape's expressions made it worth the disturbing factor), rants about Russia and Prussia (Ron had learned the hard way never to mix up the two in Gilbert's presence), or various other strange topics.

"What?" Lupin asked knocked out of what appeared to have been deep thoughts.

"Poker." Gilbert repeated and drew a deck of cards from his pocket, giving Lupin a look that suggested the question was very stupid and that he was humoring him.

"No." Snape said firmly, sipping his tea after he spoke and giving Gilbert a menacing glare that only drew an amused expression from the albino and his characteristic hissing laugh.

"Kid?" Gilbert questioned, giving Harry his signature smirk-grin. Harry's heart did that painful little happy flip and his face instantly began heating.

"S-Sure." He agreed cursing himself for stuttering and for acting like a blushing school girl around Snape of all people. He didn't think Lupin with do anything, but if Snape found out about his unfortunate crush…Harry could only shudder at the humiliation Snape would inflict upon him. Looking down Harry quickly began drinking his tea, allowing his bangs to fall forward and praying none of the men saw how red his face no doubt was.

"See the kid wants to and we can't just let the poor thing be alone when all his friends left him for the village and its goodies now can we?" Gilbert said, not mocking, but definitely teasing. Harry tried not to flinch at the reminder that he was the only third year not currently exploring Hogsmeade.

"Well," Lupin began, making Harry look up, face feeling less hot, to find the man looking sympathetic and kind. "I suppose one game wouldn't hurt."

Gilbert slapped him on the shoulder laughing somewhat obnoxiously. Though Harry felt it was still more attractive than any laugh had the right to be, which made him equally parts embarrassed and not caring. Gilbert turned to give Snape a sly look.

"No." the man reiterated, black eyes glaring full force, face hostile.

Gilbert didn't flinch. "Now Sev do it for the children.~"

"_No_." Snape said through clenched teeth. "I don't like the children. And do not call me Sev or any other of your ridiculous nicknames Beilschmidt."

Gilbert cocked his head to the side, silent and considering, eyes examining Snape carefully.

"Then how about we make this interesting. You win and I leave you alone for a week."

"A month."

"Don't be greedy, you're already getting a week off because of our deal. Two weeks"

"Two months."

"A month and a half."

"Done."

. . .

England had learned, though not always heeded the lesson, that _nothing_ good ever came out of his getting black out drunk. And it had been clear from his pounding head this morning that he'd gone well past the point of sobbing out his life story to the point of doing something utterly stupid. He really should know better by now. His not heeding this had led to some of the most humiliating and infuriating events of his long life.

In Tortuga during the Golden Age of Piracy (When Spain and he had been having a pissing contest that rivaled the defeat of the Spanish Armada.) his brothers had taken him drinking for his birthday and, with Scotland's encouragement, England had drank well passed his normal limits, which had been considerably larger in the past. The next morning he'd woken up in a dress and married to his worst enemy. It hadn't taken long to get the vows reversed and he and Spain had never spoken of it again. _Ever_. To _anyone_. Scotland, the bastard, still denied any involvement in the incident just as he had when England had confronted him later that day and had barely been prevented from impaling him on his cutlass by Portugal, while the rest of his brothers had laughed at England's appearance and Scotland's predicament. England having immediately gone there instead of changing back into his regular clothing had been pinning his brother to the mast head with the cutlass in nothing but a rather short green dress. The crest of the crew hadn't been able to look him in the eyes (With the exception of the nations) for months afterwards, though Portugal had appreciated the dress, claiming she'd been losing touch with her femininity with only the male clothes England had allowed her when she'd agreed to become his Second Mate. Even England could admit it looked good on her, though it did lead to her teasing him about the dress matching his eyes. Something Luisa had yet to drop to this very day.

Another incident had taken place more recently, during his Punk phase. After getting completely black out drunk with France, who he'd only agreed to go drinking alone with him because he was already halfway drunk to begin with, he'd spent the entire night with the Frenchman. He'd woken up in nothing but his underwear with a tattoo and a completely naked France sound asleep in his bath tub. The tattoo he liked. The naked France trying to molest him when all he'd wanted was a shower and painkillers, not so much.

Then there was the incident with Norway. Barely over a year ago Norway and he had been drinking by themselves; Romania hadn't been able to make it, after successfully completing an experiment at their Magic Meetings. Things had gotten out of hand when England, feeling very proud of himself, had started to lose counts of the drinks that he was having. He had comforted himself with the fact that Norway was a respectable nation he was on pleasant terms with who wouldn't take advantage of him, unlike some more perverted or manipulative nations he knew, and besides if Norway was paying who was England to deny his generosity. England had quickly learned that was a naïve and foolish judgment call. He'd quickly discovered the note and pensive ready memory in a vial waiting for him the next morning next to a still warm breakfast and a Hangover Potion. The note had explained that Norway had _liberated_ some of England's rarer and more powerful Grimoires with England's permission of course. England had checked the memory to find that yes, damn it all, he had agreed to it and because of some tricky magic that had been placed on the Grimoires he couldn't go back on his agreement. Lukas always had been a crafty one and he had been eying those books for well over the past two centuries, but England hadn't realized he'd possessed the nerve to trick him.

But nothing England had ever suffered through because of some drunken mistake could compare to this. Prussia was a dead man when England got his hands on him. Now if only he could find him without anyone seeing him.

Looking around the halls, alert for the sounds of any approaching Hogwarts inhabitants, England skirted around the corner considering where to go. England had learned Prussia's schedule, which was surprisingly organized, in an attempt to avoid him and knew that he helped Professor Burbage by preparing the room while the woman had her free period to grade assignments and eat breakfast. England had been halfway there before he realized that today was the Hogsmeade trip, meaning Prussia could be anywhere in Hogwarts or at the village "chaperoning". After cursing Prussia to the darkest pits of hell, England had turned around and now he was going through a list of places to check.

The top of which was the Potions Lab, but Prussia wasn't an idiot, despite how he sometimes acted. He would know England was looking for him. The library was definitely an option, plenty big enough to hide for months in. And Hogsmeade, crowded as it currently was, would be ideal. Especially since Prussia no doubt realized England would be avoiding populated areas until this _mistake_ was corrected to minimize exposure. Feeling paranoid, England adjusted his hat to make sure no strands had slipped out. Glancing down at his baggy clothes he wondered whether immediate revenge was worth the potential embarrassment. The clothes covered rather well, but if someone looked close enough they'd notice some very key differences. Besides the thought of Prussia getting away with this made him want to destroy something.

Then he realized exactly how he could find the Prussian.

Smirking to himself triumphantly, England withdrew his wand and spoke. "_Point me, Prussia_."

. . .

Harry Potter was surprisingly good at poker. Prussia hadn't seen that coming. Not with what Prussia had seen so far. The kid was easy to read. His crush on Prussia was pretty plainly written in every stutter, sideways glance, and blush that lit up the kid's face. All you needed to do to understand exactly what was going through the kid's mind was to look in those big green eyes of his. But damn did he have a poker face. And his luck was nothing to sneeze at. True he'd lost the first few hands when they'd started teaching him, but now he was steadily catching up to Snape. The man seemed almost impressed by the fact, but was trying to hide it.

It was pretty easy for Prussia to see though, just like the giant soft spot the man had for the kid under all the bitterness and hate that he had going on. Prussia saw how the man's eyes would soften when he saw the boy do something kind or surprising, but then he would catch himself and the negative emotions would swirl back up. Prussia had a good idea what, or rather, whom exactly the man thought of when he should his gentler emotions towards the boy. Looking away before the man could catch him staring (Snape seemed to always know when someone was watching him) and assuming Prussia was plotting something (He was of course, but Snape didn't need to know that.), Prussia looked at Lupin.

The man was a slightly better than average player, but his luck was inconsistent and he paled in comparison to even Harry's quickly developing skill. He was hardly a contender for winning, but he had managed to stay in though that might have been from a pure twist of fate. Prussia had dismissed him pretty early in and he didn't show any signs of winning anytime soon as he placidly sipped his tea, looking over his cards mildly, before his eyes darted towards the clock on his wall.

"I think this should be the last hand." Lupin interjected lightly, looking back at them. "It's almost time for lunch."

Harry looked surprised, the careful blank expression he'd had the entire game disappearing, but coming back in an instant. He quickly got back in the game and made his move. The kid raised.

Snape's expression was hooded, but Prussia saw the slightest expression of triumph in the brief twitch of his lips.

Prussia almost grinned. Instead he went all in. There was some hesitation before they all copied, even Lupin, who was looking pretty amused about how serious they were all being as they placed the cinnamon biscuits in the center of the man's desk.

"Full House." Harry said with a small smile.

Snape sneered and laid his hand down. Harry's face fell at the sight of Four of a Kind.

"Good." Prussia admitted, smirking to himself. "But not awesome. Straight Flush."

Snape looked ready to growl at the sight of all the little hearts. Prussia laughed at the man's displeasure reaching forward to snatch a zimsterne off the top of pile only to have Lupin give a little clearing of his throat and sweet, tiny smile. He laid down his cards.

A Royal Flush.

Well, fuck.

"Sorry Gilbert, but the biscuits are mine." Lupin said eyes mischievous and voice teasing.

Lupin barely had time to collect his winnings when the door was thrown open. Prussia turned to find a fuming England in his old uniform, which was sufficiently baggy to hide his new _assets_, and his hair put up in a hat. Prussia smirked. How predictable. Beside him Snape surreptitiously drew a camera from his robes, keeping it out of England's view. Not that he would have noticed, he only had eyes for Prussia at the moment, green eyes promising murder.

"Took you long enough Eyebrows." Prussia allowed his hand to rest on the wand concealed in his sleeve, not withdrawing it, but touching the smooth wood. He muttered an activation charm under his breath.

"I will _kill_ you." England said fiercely, eyes dark with promise.

Prussia gave him his own personal mocking smirk guaranteed to piss off the receiver no matter how cool headed the person. Before England could curse him or act on the promise of violence on his face Prussia's charm activated.

England went pale with horror and then went instantly into full on Pirate Captain Mode throwing himself at Prussia with a snarl pulling the albino to his feet by the collar of his shirt. Lupin made a strangled noise in surprise, Harry gasped, and barely audible from the direction Snape sat Prussia heard a small _click_, quickly followed by a series of them. Beaming on the inside, knowing he would have the ultimate black mail material for years to come. Prussia met England's rage with a dismissive smirk. Even if England did beat the shit out of him, which Prussia didn't think the admittedly strong short nation could, but if he did it would be well worth it.

"Or should I say _Miss_ Eyebrows."

England gave a snarl, _her_ long blonde hair falling in a wild mess now that the hat was gone, replaced with a headband, and _her_ surprisingly full chest heaving against the sweetheart neckline of what was now a white lace dress, complete with matching white pumps. England paused though seeming to finally note the others in the room. _Her_ face instantly went cold hiding the rage Prussia knew was boiling underneath the cold shell.

"I'll be taking Beilschmidt now." The _woman_ informed them eyes daring them to protest. Snape, Prussia noted, had already hidden the camera and was looking almost pleased at the sight of a small blonde woman threatening to kill, maim, or at least beat the shit out of Prussia. The traitor. Lupin and Harry looked as if they were debating whether or not they should help. Prussia melted a little at the sight. How sweet, completely unnecessary, because Prussia could take care of himself, but still it was nice to have someone worrying about him instead of nagging him when he pissed someone off. Germany could learn a thing about the right way to react when your older brother turned up to hide from a frying pan wielding she-devil from them. You were not supposed to lecture said brother about proper behavior, before turning his awesome self over to the crazy smirking Hungarian. No, you hid him and sacrificed yourself for the Greater Good, aka the continued existence of the awesome older brother you should feel blessed to possess.

"You are dead." _She_ told him quietly so only Prussia hear.

"Bring it." Prussia whispered back, allowing himself to be dragged out of the room without protests, as he threw the professor and the kid a reassuring smile. They still looked troubled though. Prussia snorted. It wasn't like England was _that_ scary.


	13. Chapter 11

**AN: I have no excuse. Also I want to know, longer chapters with more time between updates or shorter chapters with quicker updates. I'm trying not to have anymore long waits though. Also quick name guide:**

- Seychelles (Madeleine Bonnefoy-Kirkland)

- Hong Kong (Leon Xiao Wang-Kirkland)

- Canada (Matthew Williams)

- America (Alfred F. Jones)

* * *

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Eleven

Prussia was in all honesty impressed. He, and much of Europe, had long suspected that England had lost that old pirate savagery that had quelled the Spainish Armada, fueled his empire, and made him a lion in bed. Something Prussia had learned from experience during the War of Spainish Sucession, right after the Battle of Oudenarde. Something he probably shouldn't have brought up during their "_conversation_". He also probably shouldn't have propositioned the Englishman while doing it. But in his defense he'd been in the middle of a nervous breakdown, which still had not seemed to worked its way through his system.

England stood with his hands on his hips when he was angry and despite not looking alike, besides the blond hair, he looked the exact same as Canada when he did it. Prussia had noticed it before, some similiar actions in the way England moved, no doubt Canada had picked them up while growing up, but they were completely different on the young Canadian. Prussia had been very pointedly ignoring these things though for his peace of mind. But when England had thrown him to the floor and glowered down at him with an expression and stance not unlike Canada when Prussia had gotten Kumajiro drunk that one time something in Prussia died a little.

Because England wasn't Canada. England's eyes didn't have the undertone of affection that seemed to linger on Canada's face whenever he looked at him. England didn't possess that wild curl that Prussia delighted in pulling only to get his hand smacked by a not-really-mad blushing Canadian. England didn't curse solely in French, peppering any rant or scolding with the language, never ceasing to make Prussia smile when he "complained" to France about his former colony after he'd been booted from the house after said scoldings. England didn't make pancakes the mornings after when Prussia came back, usually with an apology on his toungue and some maple-nut ice cream on hand to wiggle his way back into Canada's good graces. And England didn't make Prussia pulse quicken with a beautiful smile when he happily accepted the peace offering.

Because Prussia wasn't in love with England.

It had taken three seconds for Prussia to come to this conclusion and the second those words were processed he shut down. He'd gone through out the rest of the conversation and the beating acting like his worst most obnoxious self trying his best to get England to the point of stomping off, but in reality all he wanted was to run and hide and throw up and scream all at the same time. He hadn't thought he could feel worse than when Canada had confessed to him, but it turned out he could.

Prussia admitted to himself that he'd ran away from Canada, but he'd been telling himself this entire time that it was in _Matthew_'s best interests. Prussia had a bad track record with people who loved him. All of them he'd hurt. Holy Rome had almost died because of Prussia, but by some miracle survived. The only person he'd ever allowed himself to love romantically had been a disastor spiralling into wars and hatred. There relationship was still strained even today. So Prussia had told himself to leave Canada for his sake, because he was his friend. He had to leave before he loved the lovable Canadian. That had been the thought that had given him the strength to hurt him as Prussia felt necessary.

It was also total bull shit it appeared. Prussia loved Canada. Gilbert Beilschmidt, for the second time, was in love. In love with a self-concious, amazing man named Matthew Williams, his Birdie.

And it terrified him.

Prussia had not left because he would only hurt Canada, he'd left because he was scared that Canada would hurt him.

Prussia was a _fucking_ coward.

"_Coward_." he said outloud, with as much venom as he could muster, shaken to his core. He'd hurt _Matthew_ because he was a _coward_. And now he was to terrified to know wait to do or how to fix this or even if whatever this was should be fixed.

. . 0 . .

England left the Owlery feeling rather satisfied with himself. Beating Prussia had been almost as enjoyable as beating France. The letter he'd just sent though would make sure Prussia suffered though. England hoped Hungary wasn't too shocked by the delivery of the owl, he had felt the rage of her frying pan once when he'd snuck up on the woman and didn't fancy having to replace the poor bird or explain to Dumbledore why exactly it had died from a frying pan wield by a very skilled Hungarian woman.

As he walked away from the school though, England had no intention of getting caught in his current get up, his smile turned into a frown. Something was off about Prussia. And it had nothing to do with the beating he'd just received. Prussia's little flirting/teasing/insulting earlier had been off. That was the best England could describe it. The Prussia England knew didn't bother with his unique brand of "flirting" unless he was truly interested and an interested Prussia was single minded and persistant. England could attest to that.

England scowled at the thought remembering Prussia just had to bring up the Battle of Oudenarde. Then he frowned again the marked differences between the predatory way Prussia had acted then and the rather lackluster actions earlier even more prominent. There was a distinct lack of drive and Prussia was nothing if not driven, despite how he smetimes acted. But he'd just been going through the motions earlier, not really there.

England wouldn't exactly say he was _worried_ about Prussia. England couldn't say that he and Prussia were friends, but there had been a softening in their relationship with one another. It lacked a certain malice and dislike that had existed before. Not that he really liked the Prussian. But he was a little troubled, because England was almost certain that Prussia had looked almost _scared_ and that was an emotion England had never witnessed on the Prussian. It was concerning.

England pushed his no longer hair out of his face with a growl. Whatever was wrong with Prussia he certainly couldn't do anything about it. Hungary might be able to. Despite their seemingly hostile relationship the two were as thick as thieves and always had been. So after Hungary finished kicking Prussia's ass over the little tidbit he let slip in his letter to her, the two nations could work out whatever was going through the albino's head and England wouldn't be stuck with a more emotionally disturbed than usual Prussian as his roommate.

Satisfied with this thought England smiled and it broadened as he arrived at the Quidditch Pitch. It was a short walk to get to the Professor's Box and once there England relaxed, laying out on the benches and give a long luxiorious strech. No team had the Pitch scheduled for today and neither were they any matches and as most of the students would be off at Hogsmeade he was guaranteed peace and quiet as long as he hid out here until the students were in bed. then he could slip back in his rooms and sleep the potion off.

Feeling a bit of the wood dig into hi uncovered leg England sat up to readjust his skirt. He wished he could have had some pants, but when he'd gone back to his room everytime he put something else on it would change into women's clothing, losing more and more material the more he tried. He'd even stolen some of Prussia's clothes. But after they had turned into some lingerie that really couldn't be considered more than scraps of fabric and ribbons with a see-through baby doll top England decided to just go with the what his military uniform had turned into. The experience was made even more bizarre by the fact that everytime he put something new on he swore that he heard something in the room with him, but eveytime he turned towards the noise he was alone.

"Bloody arse." England muttered outloud, almost flinching at how soft and feminine his voice sounded. It really was strange being a woman. The fact he didn't look _that _different only made it weirder.

"Professor?" a voice asked from in front of him, quiet and concerned. England stiffened and looked up from the dress he'd been glaring at to find Harry Potter hovering in front of him on a broom with an experession of worry that melted his heart and made him think painfully of all his children, nieces and nephews, and younger siblings all at once. Horrified, Englnd realized his eye were pricking with tears.

"Hello Potter." England managed, trying to ignore the painful emotions swelling in his chest and the fact that waves of love were rolling off the small boy only intensifying them. Harry looked even more concerned and landed in the box getting off the broom. England knew almost instantly that he wasn't hiding his emotions very well because when Harry looked back up at him the panic that only a boy when faced with a crying girl could manage appeared on Harry's face.

"What's wrong?" Harry demanded, green eyes worried and looking nervous, as if he both wanted to bolt and comfort England, but had no idea how.

England gave the boy a watery smile and sniffed delicately. England really hated this potion. He knew very well that not only did it change your gender, but it messed with your emotions to. The fact that Harry was a beacon of painful emotions wasn't helping. Neither was the dementors, whose presence England could always sense in the back of his mind rankling him and making the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

"It's the potion, it messes with you emotions." England explained calmly. Harry looked almost relieved.

"Oh, so that's way you looked so angry." The boy relaxed and actually managed a smile. "Professor Lupin and I thought you were going to kill Gilbert over some prank. Professor Lupin's looking for him right now and I went to find you, to make sure you were okay. You were upset so I was a bit worried."

Harry shut up instantly at that suddenly looking shy and startled at his own words. England's smile turned genuine. No doubt the boy was confused that he felt so connected to who was mostly a stranger, but it wasn't an unusual reaction in his citizens and it never failed to warm England's heart. It helped ground his emotions and the urge to cry lessened as he accostumed himself to the magic around Harry. It was a bit more difficult than it would have been on his own land, but easier on his brother's than it would have been say in china or elsewhere.

"Thank you for your concern Mr. Potter. I just came out here to be avoid being seen, given my current state."

Harry nodded seeming to understand the desire not to be spotted in a dress and then, to England's surprise, he sat beside him rather than flying away. That was rather touching. Harry looked at the surprise on England's face and smiled, but his green eyes were serious.

"You didn't say why you were crying though."

_Clever boy_, England thought fondly. The stubborn expression, mixed in with clear concern is what decided it. The boy looked just like Canada when he was worried.

"It's just you reminded me of my children is all." England told the boy perfectly honest and Harry's eyes widened as he blanched. England wondered at that for a moment before he remembered. No doubt the boy as thinking of the boggart. There was an awkward silence before Harry's Gryffindor courage and curiousity reered its head.

"You have more than one?" It could have been a statement, but it was clearly meant as a question. England smiled.

"Yes, three boys and a girl. I also have a few younger siblings and some nieces and nephews." England said smiling to himself as he pictured his family. "My oldest is Alfred. He's always been a very lively boy, getting into trouble, and wanting to be everyone's hero. His twin, Matthew, was always the better behaved. He's a very sweet boy. Loyal and kind, but he has trouble standing out poor lad. Alfred has always been so showy that people tend to over look Matthew because he's so quiet. Next would be Madeleine, she's more like Alfred than Matthew. Very lively and friendly, but not as showy, though she seems equally fond of bright colors. Matthew and she get on well, though that might have to do with the fact she can't cook very well and Matthew always agrees to make something when she asks. Leon is the youngest, he was always very hard working, but loved to drive me crazy. I can't count the number of times he set off firecrackers while I was trying to work."

"You really love them." Harry said, distracting England from his reminesing. The boy looked sad and almost longing. Without thinking England reached out and ruffled Harry's hair with a gentle smile making the boy jump.

"Come on lad, enough about me, why don't we do something fun?" England said attempting to be cheerful, in all honesty feeling simltaneously lighter and heavy. Harry, who looked a little embarassed by the ruffling, looked at him curiously.

"You're a Seeker aren't you? Why don't we play a little so I can see if you live up to your reputation?"

At Harry's smile England realize dhe'd said the perfect thing to get the boy out of his melancholy, but then Harry pointed out a very obvious fact.

"But Professor, you don't have a broom."

England drew his wand with a smile. "_Accio Firebolt_."


	14. Chapter 12

**AN: I have no excuses. Please forgive me. Also expect some plot whenever I get the next chapter.**

* * *

Arthur Kirkland and the Job

Chapter Twelve

After a few hours Prussia came to the decision that hiding out in some dark unused corridor in the dungeons was not the best way to go about the rest of his life. Even if he'd royally fucked up he couldn't just disappear completely. For starters Hungary would probably be able to track him into the next life and kick his ass for making them worry and he wouldn't break the promise he'd made to support his baby brother anymore than he already had. So when he felt he would be able to at least put on a good act of normality Prussia decided to go deal with Snape first.

Snape was unsurprisingly already waiting for him in his private dungeon rooms. The man threw him an annoyed look as he entered, but when he took in Prussia's state it changed to something oddly blank. And then Snape's lips twitched, before he gained control of himself clearly fighting the urge to smile.

"Well Kirkland seems to avenged his virtue." Snape quipped black eyes brighter than Prussia had ever seen. Prussia growled in response and the man raised his tea to his lips to take a drink, smirking the entire time.

"Yeah, yeah all your doting is getting old Sevy." Prussia was pleased to note that the man visibly flinched at the nickname. Let it not be said that Prussia couldn't get under the thickest of skins. "_Now how about my pictures_?~"

Wordlessly Snape pointed to the envelope in front of him. Prussia didn't need further prompting and quickly snatched it to see the fruits of his labor. Prussia gave a low, lng whistle at the sight. He knew he'd bewitched the clothes to get increasingly worse the more England tried to recover, but he hadn't suspected Snape would have been able to get such great shots even with the Hogwarts house-elves, which seemed equally parts terrified and in awe of the balck wearing man. Pausing on one particular photo Prussia smirked. France would definitely appreciate the skin tight mini dress designed to look like the french flag that showed off England's shapely legs to their best advantage. And England would pay good money to make sure France never found out. It was only when he saw Snape's disturbed expression that Prussia realized he'd been laughing.

"Your elves take good pictures." Prussia complimented, slipping the envelope, pictures safely tucked inside, into his shirt. He cast a nonverbal protection charm refusing to risk losing years worth of blackmail material that he'd gotten a severe beating to acquire.

"Will that be all or can I have some peace?" Snape said smoothly, but looking rather impatient to be rid of him.

Prussia rolled his eyes, but didn't protest. He'd been able to hold himself together so far, for months really, but he really needed some peace and quiet and to come up with a plan on what he should do about hs feelings or if he should do anything. He was fairly certain he could get through the rest of the day but truthfully he knew, though he hated it, that his best option was to talk to someone about his _feelings_, which meant, God help him, he'd have to call _her_. Because he certainly couldn't tell his brother or his friends and it would be really awkward to talk to England about Prussia being in love with his kid and he'd just so happened to have already turned him down sucessfully breaking Canada's heart in the process.

It definitely wouldn't end well, because if England was anything like France no matter how much it seemed like he forgot or simply didn't care he'd kill anyone who so much thought of hurting his precious babies. It was a stance Prussia could understand since he felt the same about Germany. (He still hadn't quite forgiven little Feli for the whole proposal incident all those years ago.)

So really Hungary was the only person he could talk and he just prayed she hadn't found out about him being the one who'd blacked out her cameras in the infamous closests at the World Meeting buildings. Hungary had a bad habit for finding things like that out.

"Are going to leave or not?" Snape grumbled snapping Prussia out of his considerations.

Prussia waved away the comments and turned to leave, twisting a little too fast causing a fresh wave of pain to go through him.

"Fuck." he muttered irritated. Prussia had ignored his pain for awhile, he'd received far worse beatings from Russia and even before that psycho, so he could handle it. But by the feel of things he wouldn't be surprised if England hd broken a rib. Or four.

"Drink this." Snape ordered making Prussia realize the man had somehow gotten across the room to his side almost completely silently. Prussia opened his mouth to demand what Snape was talking about only to have the man shove something in their forcing the albino to drink. It was one of the foulest things he'd ever drunken, including the concoction the Potions Master had made after the Boggart incident, but the pain n his side instantly began to numb.

Prussia blinked and found Snape frowning as the man reached to touch him prodding him with a clinical intrerest. Black eyes sharpened as Prussia flinched slightly when he poked where his ribs were. Prussia groaned, yep they were broken for sure, even dulled he recognized the pain.

"Lift your shirt." Snape ordered dark eyes focused and looking completely serious. Prussia looked at the man surprised, but recogniziing the same tone his brother used when he wouldn't let something go he complied grumbling under his breathe the entire time. Snape ignored him and instantly began touching his chest with the clinical professional air of a doctor. Prussia forced himself not to flinch back as Snape touched the worst of the bruising and were his ribs were, but he saw the man seemed to note when it was worse.

"Put your shirt down and stay here." Snape snapped again and turned on his heel to march off towards his back room connected to the lab.

Confusion didn't cover what Prussia was feeling and he wondered what had triggered the sudden change in demeanor. He didn't have long to consider it becaus esnape found whatever he was looking for and returned with two small vials, which he quickly passed to Prussia ordering him, yet again, to drink. Feeling a little amused, despite his lack of understanding at the change, Prussia complied grimacing at the taste, but not expecting anything better from something Snape had made.

"You appear to have several fractured ribs." Sanpe informed him, voice bored and distant. His entire demeanor screamed 'I don't give a damn', yet he continued in a firm 'do-what-I-say-or-else' voice. "I'll make same pain relief potions tonight you can pick them up from Madam Pomfrey. The potioons I gave you should speed up the healting process to about three weeks. You'll need to take them after you eat in the mornings. They'll make you sick the rest of the day if taken on an empty stomach."

There was a long silence as Prussia looked over the man he'd honsetly been convinced had been plotting his murder for the past few weeks. Apparently their entire relationship needed to be reevluated.

"Ah, Sevy you really do care!"

"Get out of my dungeon! I don't want to see your face until at least January."

"But _Sevy _the agreements only until December!"

"Die."

Despite the words Prussia was sure it was mostly bluster. Prussia didn't doubt Severus Snape hadn't taken care of someone in a really long time. Despite his initial interest in the man as pure entertainment, maybe getting to know Snape meant more to him than Prussia had realized. Despite the snark and snapping, Snape had still helped him.

Prussia decided he liked him.


End file.
